


To Seek

by the_never_was



Series: To Seek [2]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Battle/Fights, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst at times, Multi, Other, Reforming the Self, Romance/Adventure/Drama, Sex, humor/comedy, some Inquisition canon events/AU Hawke/Arishok insert into Inquisition timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 155,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_never_was/pseuds/the_never_was
Summary: "When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves."William Arthur Ward





	1. He Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12073962/chapters/27353859
> 
> Forgive the in media res, and just roll with me. (It literally was my dream writing scene that kicked everything off.)  
> It's all coming, I promise.  
> There will be laughs, angst, and sex. I mean, that's life, right?  
> Stick with it for the long haul. I think you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16  
> 

 

It was certainly an enlightening discussion.

Varric, Hawke and Feran stood on the ramparts, the Dalish Inquisitor listening to the other two close friends talk about how they'd killed Corypheus before, made sure of it. The guilt in them both for something beyond their control—the magister's revival—seemed to be so heavy and the main motivation for their strong resolve to sort out just how the damned blighted darkspawn had cheated death and gotten to terrorize all of Thedas.

“This is my responsibility, Inquisitor, and I will see to it. Do as you see fit to aid or hinder me in these efforts—I will do what I must regardless to fix anything remotely possible,” Camilla Hawke swore, steeled dark eyes weighing upon the elf's light green ones. Hawke's long hair was tied up, blowing in the light breeze atop the ramparts like a small flash of sunlight in its golden color.

Varric nodded next to his best friend and gave a brief “we're-in-this-shit-together” smile at the Inquisitor. “Don't worry, Hawke. Feran's not gonna hinder anything on this. He's as personally pissed as we are for his own reasons.”

“My apologies to you for that as well. If it weren't for...all of this, you wouldn't have been so separated from your people or marked so undesirably as a criminal by the bloody Chantry.”

The Inquisitor tilted his head and grunted a little, dark hair curling about his ear in the wind. “They'd have done so regardless. It is the _shem_ way.”

Hawke conceded his point. “Unfortunate. Know I disagree with it.”

“I can tell, and it's appreciated, Hawke.”

Suddenly a loud bout of noise caught their attention as it echoed up over the walls of Skyhold.

A loud bellow, then another, then some mild shouting and worried yelling. All three lurched as far over as they could, but only the gardens were visible from the spot. The sounds were coming from the entrance bridge, and they'd grown so loud that it was impressive to even hear details in the echoes. As they started moving over the ramparts to another section for visibility sake, a servant practically ran into the Inquisitor, gaping for breath in terror, eyes unmistakably wide. “Inquisitor! Qunari!”

“ _What?_ ” Feran snapped in shock and took off at a run, Hawke and Varric close behind him through a tower and around a corner and through another.

The human servant tried to keep on his heels, shouting, “It is a single Qunari, Ser! But it has drawn weapon! The Iron Bull has been summoned for questioning as to why it is here, and the soldiers are trying to keep it near the entrance. Ser Cullen is in a right panic. I don't know what he knows, Ser, but he looked right at that beast and shouted, 'You!'”

Feran stopped, turned and squinted at the servant. “Cullen knows of this Qunari?”

“Oh...Maker.” Hawke quickly pulled a hand to her chest, wheezing. “He wouldn't have. Couldn't have.”

Varric was immediately at Hawke's side, grabbing her arm. “Hawke, what the fuck is going on? What haven't you told me?”

Her dark eyes were hugely rounded as she ran past them, shrugged her friend off, and grabbed the edge of the stoned wall below them. The others quickly followed, all looking down at the scene below: Nearly fifty armed soldiers stood wary, blades and shields ready to fight and blocking one sole individual in front of the entrance.

The Qunari was enormous—easily over six feet tall _under_ his horns, with gray skin that almost flicked bronze in the light. Black Qunari-styled armor crossed his chest and hips, but it was _not_ traditional. Almost a mixture of something Ferelden with the long arm guards and leg wraps, but worn over pants with a sash. The Qunari had impressive horns, two very big and four small ones hugging the larger two, that wound back off his head like a large, breathtaking crown. His sharp teeth were bared, long white hair hanging down his neck and chest as he kept his huge war ax ready. Feran couldn't believe the size of him; he'd thought Bull the biggest Qunari in existence, but where Bull was even broader than this one, the height and perfect shape of the intruder made him seem bigger. He had to be taller, at the least. But it was his confidence he exuded that just...made him even more huge. Like a damn dragon standing at the gates, demanding.

Everything had gone so eerily quiet in those moments, but Varric and Feran both saw Hawke do two strangely simultaneous things: go extremely pale as she clutched the stone in honest surprise and turn absolutely red in the face with a blush. Varric narrowed his eyes and looked back down, studying the figure past the armor, looking closer at the horns and then the chiseled face.

“ _Andraste's fucking taint, Hawke!_ ” he hissed under his breath, shocking the Inquisitor. “What is _he doing here?_ ”

Hawke barely opened her lips before the silence over the hold was broken by the Qunari. His gravelly voice rang out angrily as he shouted one word. “Hawke!”

Feran's green eyes whipped to the human next to him, wanting to know what the hell the Champion could have done to have a Qunari _demanding_ her presence.

Cullen emerged between the front lines of the soldiers, looking absolutely shaken in a way that the Inquisitor hadn't seen, not even as his General was fighting the pull for lyrium he'd stopped taking. The Qunari recognized him, sneered, and lowered that heavy brow. A single finger pointed at him. “You, _bas_. Your face is familiar. Where is Hawke?”

Hawke appeared still in absolute shock, having not moved a muscle. Cullen swallowed and took an impressive step forward, inspiring the soldiers. “There is no relic here. There is nothing for you here. You come with no army, no dreadnoughts. Leave now. I will not ask again.”

The Qunari managed such a glare that even the Inquisitor could see it from his position on the wall. Half the soldiers jerked at it. Cullen glared right back, and Feran had never felt more rewarded in having trusted the human. “Back down, Arishok!”

“ _That_ title has no bearing anymore, _bas_. There is a new Arishok, and it is not I.”

Sharp teeth bared again. Varric sucked in a harsh breath. “Arishok?” Feran asked in a hushed demand. He'd heard the stories since meeting Varric, heard gossip around the dwarf. His mind raced to place this figure with all the variations he'd heard, then the one he'd actually been told straight from Varric in recount. Hawke had _lived_ from fighting _this_ individual?

“Leader of the Qunari army,” Varric whispered back. “It's really him. Shit.”

Feran's eyes almost popped from his skull. Instantly he turned on Hawke. “ _The_ Arishok from Varric's tale? Didn't he leave Kirkwall after your fight?”

Hawke finally seemed to come alive in her shock then, but she didn't answer him. Instead she climbed up on the stone's ledge, scaring the shit out of Varric as he clutched at her legs to steady her, hissing for her to get the fuck down. “ _Kadan!_ ” she screamed out, her voice echoing like a fierce roar.

Immediately that impressive Qunari head jerked upward, eyes focusing solely on the human female holding her delicate balance. The Inquisitor studied the Qunari's face intensely, shocked that even at their distance he could see _relief_ in the stone features. He looked then to Varric for answers as to what she'd called the Qunari, but the dwarf wasn't paying attention to him.

Hawke's chin quivered with some emotion Feran couldn't decipher, but Varric looked absolutely worried at seeing it. “I will come down. We will talk. Do _not_ hurt any of these people. I will not forgive it.”

Varric gripped her legs tighter as she shook some. “Maker, Hawke, have you _lost_ your fucking _mind?_ ”

A hundred gasps echoed as the mighty Qunari nodded once and returned the giant ax to his back with purpose, obeying her. Cullen was looking up at them, saw the Inquisitor, and waved his hand urging him to come down. Varric helped Hawke down from the ledge. She paused only a second, turning to press a kiss to his brow, and said softly, “It will be okay.” Then she ran down the nearby set of stairs.

So many eyes watched the Champion as she strode with focus toward the now silent intruder. She paused in front of him, dark eyes searching his own dark ones with the gold trimmings. The Qunari eyed her intensely for a moment, then spun on his heel, his gait absolutely commanding and graceful as he strode out of the gates, Hawke following him. _He_ carried the weight the Inquisitor should have. Feran shook his head, trying to figure out how for some he himself seemed so impressive.

The Inquisitor and Varric made it down the stairs as Cullen was running to them. “Varric, do you have _any_ idea why that beast is here?”

“Not a fucking clue, Curly,” Varric swore. “But I will find out, and I will _kill_ her if it's what I think.”

“Which is?” Cullen demanded. “I have a keep of people to worry over in safety, dwarf.”

Varric clutched his hands into fists. “I knew there was a reason she didn't kill him. Same reason probably that _he_ didn't kill _her_ that day. Now I'm gonna find out. And I'm betting it has to do with that word.”

Iron Bull strode up to them, normally secure expression in shock as well. “Inquisitor...we have a problem here.”

“I saw. Do we plan for war with the Qunari?”

“No. He was...displaced as the Arishok for not killing Hawke when she refused to give up that thief, that's what I was told. He can't start wars on their behalf.” Bull sighed raggedly, blinking several times. “He was...set for reeducation, but it failed. The Arishok was always the strongest, the most sound. He wouldn't be broken. So he was exiled after...attempts. They didn't want to give him an honorable death, declaring it unfit for someone who betrayed the Qun. Consider it...a general or...even a human king being displaced and exiled. That is the level of power he once had.”

“Why didn't he finish it?” Feran asked, much to Varric's chagrin.

Bull shrugged. “There's rumors.”

Varric almost growled next to them. “They respected each other too much. Hawke was the only human he considered worth even speaking to, calling her respectable in the most corrupt city. Professional respect and trust from her keeping the peace between the city and their compound. She hated the humans fucking with them for no other reason than fear. Half the Qunari with him treated her with a lot of respect.”

“Even so he betrayed the Qun,” Bull countered, arms crossing. “Intention doesn't matter, especially when it's one of the three leaders doing so. That shakes everyone.”

“Betrayed? He brought back that book Isabela stole!” Varric argued, fists relaxing as he rubbed his brow. “Explain, here. It's Qun shit we're not getting.”

“The Tome of Koslun, an important relic of my people, was stolen under his watch, and so he had to retrieve it, his men and he all disallowed Par Vollen until that day. They were all stranded in Kirkwall due to the ship damages from the storms. He got the relic while there, but three things changed the outcome: One, once he did decide to attack Kirkwall, he failed at securing and capturing it under the Qun, choosing to tear it apart for the relic instead and fulfilling the purpose he was sent for there. Two, he didn't acquire the thief for punishment—leaving without the pirate intentionally. Three...he didn't kill Hawke when she challenged and fought him for the thief's life,” Bull patiently explained, hands spread. “Serious no-nos for the Qun. And apparently...there was another broken rule.”

“What? Has he come back to kill her? To get back in?” Feran snapped impatiently. “Then we have our war?”

“Even if he got the thief and killed Hawke, he could only possibly see reassignment, Boss. The Arishok was the avatar of the Qun's body, one of the Triumvirate. He broke _purpose_.” Bull grunted in what Feran recognized as impressed reluctance. “I don't know how she did it.”

“Did what?” Varric stared at Bull for a full minute before shook his head and collapsed back against the steps behind them. “Maker, Hawke. What are you doing?”

“Varric, what more do you _know_?” Cullen asked again, angry.

“She...I remember she asked me to be sure a few letters got sent some years ago. I never looked through them, obviously. She's my friend. But I remember her being so afraid of them not...getting there. And then she got one reply, way later. I knew it was from whoever those letters were for because she reacted _just_ like she did up there. That was right after the mages rebelled and she left Kirkwall not long after to hide Bethany.” Varric explained and pointed up above them at the ramparts. “She wrote to him. Why? Is this an answer, too? I was away too long with Cassandra. Shit, Hawke.”

The Inquisitor frowned and quickly took control of the situation. “Cullen, relax the men. If the Qunari is here for a matter with Hawke alone, they don't need to be involved. Let's give it space and react accordingly as needed. Varric, you get me information. Bull...just stand by, ready.”

Bull nodded with absolute understanding. “I'm Tal-Vashoth now, Boss. He and I are equals in this way. But something you should know—whether he's the Arishok or not anymore, he _still_ is in a lot of ways. He will never _not_ be that avatar once he was made for it. Don't be surprised by his strength and demands. He is used to absolute respect. He'd earned it.”

“Understood.”

“Boss.”

“What, Bull?”

For once the Iron Bull looked completely uncomfortable. “Something else. What she called him—that's important. I'd heard rumors, but um. Look, maybe it's best if she talks to you herself about it. I don't want to misinform.”

“That word, what's it mean?” Varric asked, equally worried and determined.

They were all quiet. Bull exhaled one long breath. “Refers to...a close bond...look, I want to be sure I'm right in the intent before I explain it, that it's not just her saying it without him agreeing, but...uh. You know.”

Feran frowned, having an idea but completely unsure if it could be remotely true. Varric cursed loudly and looked like he was going to rip his hair out. “She _wouldn't_. Not Hawke. She respected that giant, but she never said anything _that_ way.”

“It can mean all kinds of closeness...but, yeah...looks that way,” Bull replied to the dwarf, ignoring both confused looks on Cullen and Feran's faces. The large Qunari bent next to Varric.

“Maker, I hope she contains him. He tore Kirkwall apart, though that was _well_ after several attacks and disturbing political moves by the local Chantry and Viscount not responding,” Cullen admitted to Feran, hand at his neck. “He showed remarkable restraint before the attack.”

“He bode his time with the ship rebuilding. Once he knew one of ours had taken the relic, he snapped,” Varric grumbled and hit the stone next to him. “Stupid Rivani. At least she came back with it. Spared us a real invasion. If Hawke and he hadn't stopped...he'd have broken her. You saw the size of him.”

Bull emptily laughed. “The Imperium called him 'The Mad Ox' out of fear when he was Kithshok. It's not wrong to overestimate anything of his capability.”

Feran sighed and steeled himself, heart still beating harshly from the severity of the situation that had just been avoided in his men fighting such a capable person. “Let me know. For now, Cullen, get the men back. Bull, with me. Let's hope Hawke sorts this out.”

 

 

   
[Camilla Hawke]  
  
  
  
  
[Feran Lavellan]


	2. Speak to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tides break on rocks softer than this.  
> After all, they've got a lot to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a giant chapter. Be prepared. They're not usually so big after, but this was a long time coming.  
> We're getting to the regular pace past it.  
> Also, I love me some sass, and these two rock at it.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> (Flashblacks included as I'd written this before the prequel.)

She followed, still in absolute shock, dark eyes never leaving his form before her. He was still so amazing, still so commanding of a presence. Still so _beautiful_.

The Qunari stopped near an edge of rock and overlooked out on the Frostbacks, his gaze much like that of his upon his dais in the Qunari compound back in Lowtown. His jaw was still so strong as the sun started to fall behind them, casting some shadow against his face and strengthening its severity as a result.

Hawke trembled. It had been too long, and no word had been given in that time.

Her eyes took in the scars etched into his back that were visible around the armor he wore, armor that flattered him but was nothing like that of his Arishok time—that gorgeous red with the huge pauldrons and the skirting legs over his pants. The gold earrings on his ears were unseen, bands on his horns gone. The red Qunari paint that kept them so different visually from the Tal-Vashoth was missing, and that was perhaps the most wounding next to his scars. It was what would have hurt him most to lose, and inwardly Hawke was so relieved that he'd been allowed to keep his horns at least.

When she'd gotten his reply, the last words right before she'd decided to move Bethany in the chaos she saw about to unfold, she'd panicked. It had said in clear, few statements that he was no longer Arishok and that he would be killed for sparing her, exiled at minimum, as reeducation had failed. He'd only been allowed to write to her thanks to a daring Qunari servant. And he'd closed the short response with only one small phrase—“Go forth, _kadan_.”

Hawke had spent enough time around the compound and Fenris to pick up some Qunlat, and she'd recognized that word. It was an acknowledgment of all the respect and...and... _feelings_ unspoken during each of their brief meetings, each of the times she'd reported the terrible things done to his people that she'd tried to prevent or fix. And he'd been grateful to her, showing it in ways the others could never pick up in their firm arguments with one another; they'd always only seen the danger, not the amusement or the frustrations in the cultural differences. Even so they'd known it was going to come down to blows. It was only to be expected. So when he'd fought her, not holding back as she'd expected, she'd waited for the killing blow of that large sword he'd had then, one very different from the ax he had now. But there hadn't been a blow. She'd been struck into a tough position, one of her daggers pressing into his chest at his heart, his hand gripping her throat in preparation to snap her neck with a slight pressuring of his arm.

He'd looked at her. Hawke had stared right back into those beautifully intelligent eyes and, with an apology on her lips, shown him that she understood as she gasped for breath and lessened the pressure of her dagger's tip; she'd forgiven him for what he must do and chosen not to kill him, herself. The Arishok's look had immediately changed to one she didn't recognize at first because it seemed so angry, but she'd realized later in reflection that as the pressure at her throat slightly lessened, too, after she'd blacked out a moment...that he wasn't angry at her, not entirely. With a roar of fury he'd let her go, flung her far away from him, holstered his ax, and moved to leave with absolutely confused and shocked Qunari guards at his side.

Her own companions were in such shock that they were too _grateful_ he'd let her go and was leaving the city to fight him. Aveline had quickly left, no doubt to order the men and stop more fighting at the Qunari retreat. Only Hawke had seen the stiffened posture, that rage not leaving the mighty Arishok as he'd left and looked slightly over his shoulder once before the door had closed. He'd looked right at her, and in his eyes had been loss and regret.

So she'd debated what to do when they'd left. It wasn't until the escalations got worse before Anders betrayed her trust as a friend, reasons or not, and blew up the Chantry that one of her contacts had spoken to Fenris and he'd come to her, thinking she should know what was going on with the Qunari—specifically the Arishok. She'd written immediately about his greatness, trying her best to show his people what an amazing person they'd created and why he should be kept in his role. But it was to no avail, and his own men, a small amount loyal enough to him, had died to protect him when he was forcibly taken. She'd written one more letter then, paying almost her weight in sovereigns to ensure it was at least whispered to him in whatever cell they'd given him. In it she'd thanked him again, apologizing that her efforts hadn't succeeded in helping him. She lamented; she begged his forgiveness. And then she'd gotten his confirmation of the situation and his last word, the rarest token of affection.

Hawke snapped out of the memories as tears streamed down her cheeks. She reached out, fingers lightly touching a scar she could easily see: it was deep, most likely from a blade being repeatedly cut into him over time. He didn't jolt or respond in any other way to her touch but stiffened just slightly. Slowly she pressed her brow to his back.  
  
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, voice choking.

Her eyes were closed, but they opened once she felt him shift and turn to face her. Maker, the man was glorious, she thought as she looked up into the most handsome severe face ever created. The former Arishok looked over her, taking in her crying, she knew, the strength of her emotion. He reached out a hand and lightly touched her cheek; Hawke smiled then despite the tears in her eyes.

“You were never to blame, _kadan_ ,” he said, and she had to blink because his voice had made her mind automatically summon his dais around them. “Only I was...and that disgusting city.”

“I hurt you by not giving Isabela over, even if I was so fucking mad at her that I wanted to do it. Because you were harmed for doing nothing wrong. You fulfilled your duty. They wronged you,” Hawke argued back. His large hand shifted to cup her head as he regarded her. “I...after she brought back the tome, I couldn't give her up. She'd done the right thing, which I knew was very terrifying for her given what she knew would happen, and I had to take responsibility for my ignorance of the matter, get my own justice for it. I'm sorry.”

“No.”

“But.”

“No.” Like arguing with him in the compound all over again, his voice so firm and rough and demanding respect.

Hawke frowned, and he let his fingers grip the back of her neck. She knew instinctively it wasn't to harm, not with the way he gently pressured against her skin...and the fact that the last time he'd done so he'd been intending to kill her wasn't forgotten. Yet Hawke didn't flinch. She'd trusted him then to do the right thing, and she did now.

“I broke the Qun,” he said quietly. “I deserved the punishment.”

“You got the Tome.”

“But not the thief. I left her in my anger. I did not kill you after a challenge. I did not secure the city for the Qun at that point.”

Hawke swallowed and stepped closer to him, bravely letting a hand rest on a strap over his chest. “You should have killed me. You were always honorable.”

“ _Kadan_ ,” he said, his voice hushed. “I _tried_.”

The pressure on her throat briefly changed, darkened into a memory of the hold he'd had on her during the fight before it relaxed once more, his thumb stroking her skin in apology.

“You couldn't...finish it,” she finally said.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Maker, she'd always wondered the deepest reasons.

Those gorgeous gold-rimmed eyes hovered over her face. “Many reasons, one being your honor.”

“Explain.”

“You are _Basalit-an_. Even...when you refused to give me the thief, Hawke. That act of defiance should have broken the respect I had for you, but it did not. Not after everything as a whole.” He shifted, his shoulders rippling backward. “I should have been able to kill you, but I could not. Something...prevented, something aside from your obvious choice at refusing to kill me when you should have. Perhaps part of me walked from what would have been false victory, but deeper feelings were most responsible for my response.”

“My honor, my respect? My words that I didn't want you to betray yourself?” she asked, curious. “But that should have made it easier, not harder.”

Hawke watched him briefly close his eyes before they resettled on hers with tenderness. “Your words changed everything, Hawke. They...validated thoughts I had been having before then. I had...ideas for you. Considerations. Your relationship to the thief prevented another honorable option. Had she been anyone else, had you given her to me, your reward could have been substantial in many ways.”

“Which would have been what?”

He let go of her face, removed his weapon to sit it on the ground, and slowly sat down next to it, ever graceful for his size and strength. Hawke followed his lead and sat in front of him, both cross-legged. The Arishok—Maker, it was hard to not want to call him that because if there ever was a Qunari destined for the role and title it was _him—_ sat straight, elegance not lost from his time in punishment. “You were sympathetic enough. Maybe you'd given me the thief, and had your conversion happened, had you become _viddathari_ , I would have taken you, not as prisoner but as...more and moved for consent from the rest of the Triumvirate, even if it could only be rarely visited.”  
  
“For? What do you mean?” Hawke asked him, head tilting a little as her belly warmed.

His beautiful eyes closed. “Qunari.... Females do not battle the same. Rogues, _Ben-Hassrath_ , yes, but not like your soldiers. Your skill, your blades, your honor would have made exception or given you rogue status. You would have been seen as a strong female, despite being converted because of your many deeds to benefit the Qun.”

Hawke froze then, jaw dropping a little. She'd never seen herself _that_ way, never figured she'd have been seen as more than a bother to Qunari except those at the compound she'd gotten to know. But she _had_ done a lot, hadn't she? Aided many of them, avenged their dead, tried to protect one of their mages, protected the elven converts, and even helped Tallis and the _Ben Hassrath_. That was, when documented, a heavy list most converts couldn't boast.

Even so, she'd never planned on giving up Isabela. She couldn't. As furious as she'd been at her friend, the woman had gone against all of her beliefs to do what was right. No one had considered it even a possibility, and she supposed the pirate had banked on gratitude distracting them. But Isabela had had her back tenfold after that, hadn't she? Done great things.

“The curiosity of your abilities, your strength, and devotion to duty may have also allowed me to choose you as a personal, exclusive Healer. An unlikely plausibility of success, perhaps, but one I would have...discussed.” His eyes reopened and stared into her without mercy, without hesitation. “But you did not submit. You did not give the thief to me. That...and my sparing you were the problem.”

She was utterly confused now, but she had a damn good idea of what experimentation he was referring to. “I.... Please explain more. I don't want to misinterpret.”

He flexed his shoulders, jaw ticking a little in frustration. “What I would have done would have been the closest I could...approach to...something your human sensibilities would see as...personal in bond.”

Hawke flushed. That confirmed her idea. “And...why would such elaboration be necessary?”

“The Qun does not allow mates, no emotional attachments. We may have companions and friends, close mentors, but the Qun's demands and roles override,” he explained. “When you are given assignment, you move past such people willingly. _Kadan_ are _kadan_ in memory and thought when parted.”

“But are we not?”

“Have you grown so simple, Hawke, in these years?”

Fire licked her spine at that insult, but she should have seen it coming. It was like him to want to test her, even in respect. “Not simple. Distracted. Very.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, but finally gave her a slight nod. “You were unlike your people. Despite your ability coming from selfish places, you grew. You became almost Qun-like. Respect for you came from my men without their readiness until they willingly surrendered to it. You submitted to us in ways expected and respected, unlike others, and so you were given submission, in such ways, in return. This was not lost on me, Hawke. Nothing...about you...ever was.”

A slow smile spread over her lips as she stared up at him, still just in shock he was before her in the flesh once more. “Trust me, that is something we had in common.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward once; had she blinked she would have missed the sight. Her smile grew even bigger.

“Had you converted, had agreed to arrangements made for becoming my Healer, I would have gladly defended it. Demanded it. No other could have given you the respect necessary for such a role. I would have taken you with me, wherever I went if possible,” he said, almost sternly.

And there it was—she hadn't misinterpreted at all. Hawke couldn't help but want to imagine such a situation, if only for a brief second. So much was being said here between the lines—a desire to be with her, to have found a loophole to experience something together. To have pushed the rules for _himself_ for once. It was frankly astonishing.

His hands suddenly balled on his knees, head tilting down a little. “But even given such opportunity...would have changed me, as I already was changing. Distracted me, corrupted me, even had I acquired the thief and secured the city with you by my side. You proved this to me when I walked away; I'd already been corrupted.”

She almost apologized, wincing in understanding though disagreeing with his terms, but he continued, “Hawke, Qunari do not have bonds of love or mates, but if you'd converted, I would have killed any other for touching you had we bedded or had we not, if they had refused my allowance. Consider it...instinct I do not understand. Perhaps this is human in understanding, this... _choosing_ of another above duty and purpose, above role and the people. Qunari _do not_ choose. Cannot under the Qun; no need exists, especially for the blooded ones. And I had, in your Kirkwall, without doubt. A _kadan_ of any kind is special, but it, too, must be moved beyond if required. I...could not.”

Her voice was strong, but small when she asked, “You...wished for this plan? Chose...me?”

“Yes. Once it became clear you desired me, I considered your possible reasons—physicality, intellectual discourse, respect—and I found that I...shared them. The more you gave to my people in our time there, the more it became a concrete idea. Situations arose to give you pause, make you consider the Qun as you should have, being so oriented. Gaining your conversion and rights were plans I had barely begun to even dream of. I had never had thoughts of that kind before. It was...disturbing, at first.”

“So...all those discussions were you considering me...and later encouraging me to convert was to...allow a chance for something the only way you knew how?” she asked, in awe.

“Yes.” He stared her down with intensity that shook her. “I _wanted_ you. There has never been a female so under my skin, and _none_ but you have approached my soul. None have captured any attention beyond a breeding session. I have never _wanted_ to even claim a _kadan_ of any kind before, brotherhood or in...this way. You denied my efforts, denied the Qun's demands for the thief. Denied _me_.”

“I did not mean to deny _you_ ,” she whispered, looking over him with understanding and apology. “I did not mean to deny your wants, your feelings or _my own_. I did what I felt necessary, but I hated losing the connection we'd made over it. That was my regret. I...wish you'd told me then. I'm not sure it would have stopped me trying to fix everything the only way I knew how, but...who knows the difference it could have made. Nonetheless, I hope my last words to you then...that day...conveyed anything I hoped to say.”

Redness broke out over her cheeks as he frowned, but leaned closer into her space. He'd never been so forward before, even when she'd known he'd held some sort of interest in her in the past. It had taken her months to get the barest hints of smiles and lustful glances, then the smallest of touches in the form of a bumping elbow or brief hand on her shoulder. And now here he was, essentially saying if she'd converted like he'd wanted, he would have pushed for approval with her, fucked her brains out, and killed anyone else who tried, probably getting exiled for that, too—let alone him doing what he actually had done, his sparing her life and becoming Qun-less. In his Qunari way, all of it—thought, dream, and actual action—was saying to her, “Hawke, I love you.” Maker, the man must have been an emotional mess in Kirkwall, though he'd hidden it very well until that fight. All that Qun demanding.

“You...would have had a bond, an emotional tie, and mated instead of simply having me as a Healer if your plan had worked,” Hawke commented, understanding and trying to comfort him in the obviously awkward topic. “But I didn't convert, and we weren't assigned. Of course, had it...I would have preferred you, yes. I...chose, too.”

“Such bonding occurred regardless, Hawke, and as Arishok, I could not even have _kadan_ ; not as an avatar of the people. I hadn't had one before, regardless. I allowed it to distract me, to break my purpose and role.” He reached for her then, a clawed finger stroking down her arm hesitantly. “I did not kill you for I could not. Whatever you did, whatever it inspired in your respect, did not allow such things. Your death, even honorable under the Qun, would not have been honorable for that, let alone the removal of your blade.”

“You realized in that moment, didn't you? You'd known you'd physically wanted and intellectually enjoyed me, but...you didn't realize how _deep_ the feeling was until that fight, yes?” she asked, eyes soft on him. Her right hand slid up and took his that had touched her, holding it despite the massive difference in their size, her soul singing for the seemingly casual but very intimate (for him) touch. “You would have killed me otherwise, no hesitation. Probably still could have without doubt if you'd not thought about so many things. Maybe you even wanted to anyway to remove the temptation.”

He bowed his head once in an affirmative. There wasn't a single denial of anything.

Hawke swallowed back more tears. Not many would understand how fundamental a shift that was, could have accepted his blow anyway, but she did. The man had no idea how oddly romantic it was to hear that he couldn't kill her because he'd found love, something he wasn't allowed to know or feel. So he had spared it, leaving it behind instead. “Why didn't they accept it? Surely there would have been an exception since you returned the relic.”

A slow blink answered her first. “There was...consideration. The lack of the thief had to be punished as the challenge had not properly ended. The attack on the city was not according to doctrine; I'd just wanted to _leave the vashedan_ place. The effects of my distraction were large and dangerous, Hawke. Choosing you over the thief? Over my _people_ in that? One of my guards, loyal to the Qun as he should have been, reported all of it. I was...questioned. I had never exhibited behavior against the Qun before, and never focused on a female to the point of abandoning duty. An Arishok _cannot_ do so.”

“They...tortured you,” she inferred, a harsh breath catching in her throat, eyes dropping down to look at some scars. Tears hit her anew. She'd known, but to hear him speak of it.... “No.”

“Yes,” he solemnly said.

“I am sorry.”

He tilted his elegant head, horns shining in the orange sunset. “I did not lie. The Qun does not lie. I admitted to finding _kadan_ without seeking it, and that I had let it distract me from purpose in the end, let it push me to remove my men for safety and health of soul over further destruction. This broke the Qun, corrupted my purpose and avatar state. I could no longer stand as my role, even if...some agreed with the decision to leave after the Tome was acquired. Even if they agreed with _your words_ over the thief's punishment, which _were_ reported—your Qun-like punishment you'd planned for her.”

“Why didn't you...ugh,” she grunted, but sighed a little as he shifted their hands and held hers gently in his over his knee. “You knew what was coming. Why did you take it? Why didn't you _fight_?”

“Because I had dishonored the Qun and myself. It was necessary and right to submit.”

“No, it wasn't.”

“I may no longer be Arishok, Hawke, but the Qun was everything I knew. Even now I do not hate all of it. I understand.”

“You aren't angry? You aren't hating what they did to you—torturing you, casting you out, disallowing you honorable death?” she asked heatedly, voice rising in demand. “Your ax isn't the same; you don't even wield your sword with it. That means they let you go without them—leaving you soulless under the Qun!”

He growled low, the sound almost thunderous in the quiet around them.

“Do not mistake my understanding and acceptance for my deeds as lack of anger at the results. They tried to silence the truth, but the rumors were too fast, and I was punished harder.” Teeth bared in fury, he snapped, “The Arishok loved a human _basra_ , broke the Qun for her, and so had to be punished in the most severe ways possible. No such behavior could ever be seen by any other, no influence like it allowed. I was an avatar of the body of my people, and I'd broken their trust. _I_ had been corrupted by that festering city you protected! By greed and want that I fought against! Your kind are lucky that the event didn't spur invasion to remove the memory!”

Hawke shook a little at the ferocity of his shout, his voice booming off the rocks as he continued, back straight and emotions he didn't believe he had in great depth taking over.

“They beat me, cut me, starved me, bound me, then abandoned me weaponless after they could not reeducate me into another role, like some mindless animal. I refused even when I _tried_ to accept it, their ways, somehow able to overcome the _qamek_ used to reeducate—my will too strong, my body scarred but unbroken even in weakness they believed they saw. I fought and did not _know why_. Even when I _wanted_ to die honorably, my body betrayed me by staying alive. I will not forget these things, Hawke, even if I understand. I will not forget the pain and the abandonment when a quick, ensured death would have been right. I had done my duty after years of strife in that disgusting city, returned that sacred relic, and I was not rewarded for it, no matter my corruption! Choice in you was selfish against what I was to my people.”

Hawke choked at his words and launched forward, unable to stop herself from taking his face into her hands. He wasn't wrong—she'd long ago known her affection for a leader of another race was unfair in many regards, yet she angered at it all the same, wanting him to find release and relief. To maybe even feel a little humanity.  
  
“You aren't corrupted! If you call me _kadan_ , then you're just in _love!_ You _chose_ , yes, but that's not necessarily greed! Perhaps for the Qun mentality as it goes against the common whole, _but_ I still disagree! It's wanting to protect another, not for yourself, but for them! To see them succeed! To feel close and not let it be taken away by something that thinks it knows what's best for you and might have once...but it doesn't know _you_ at all—just the construct that made you, the role you played. But I know _you_ —the _man_ you are, what makes you yourself beyond your role."  
  
When he merely stared, spellbound almost, she continued, “I learned who you are in all that time. You always had _potential_ beyond your role and allowed yourself to be bound by it, by duty, by tradition. You're intelligent, philosophic, aware, caring of those under you...and absolutely beautiful, no matter your anger or patience. You shake _mountains_ with your stride, you wake the _earth_ with a war cry and bring enemies to their _knees_ with a look! It was you who taught me to always look, to always consider different perspectives, to philosophize. To enjoy order and find inner peace in such ways, to give trust in new places. Whether or not the Qun gave you this talent, this strength, you made it your own. _You_ are all. And I _love_ you. I _chose_ you, _too_! I told you that you were worth far more than you ever could have imagined, _kadan._ Please believe me.”

His chest heaved with emotion as he stared at her, eyes possessed with anger and hate, pride and desperation he couldn't understand. With _need._ Hawke gave an angry, emotional scream and shocked them both by kissing him, jerking that massive head down to her in a heartbeat.

Instantly searing want struck through her like dragon fire. The kiss was intense, just as their only other one had been. Claws squeezed her armor to her tightly as he held her close. As her lips moved over his, his tongue deftly, demanding in its stroking the seam of her mouth to open it and slide inside, her mind thought briefly back to that moment:

It was after she'd allowed the Qunari to kill Mother Petrice, avenging the deaths of many of their soldiers and in particular a recent convert, Seamus, the Viscount's own son, all of whom had been killed at the woman's word. It hadn't been common for her to stay too long, but she had even shared dinner there that night, talking about the Qun and asking questions that the event had stirred. And, being Arishok, one of his duties was to answer such things to a possible convert, since they lacked priests in Kirkwall with them. The long discussion had ended in privacy as the men had retired for the evening, only night guards at the gate. He'd asked her if she was leaning toward conversion, quite understandably, and Hawke had answered honestly that she wasn't sure she could, but that she was definitely not so _against_ such an idea in the future. Her subsequent explanations had been respectful and enlightening for the Arishok, and when she'd risen and respectfully thanked him for his excess time, he'd stood with her, staring down at her intensely to figure something out. Hawke hadn't been able to stop herself that time either, feet rising up on her toes and lips pressing softly to his in the soft firelight. She'd of course instantly prayed he wouldn't kill her for the action; she hadn't been able to help it, not with his absolute beauty and patience, the respect they'd grown for one another—those weird feelings and heated dreams he'd been inspiring for so long. And he'd kissed her back to her utter shock, very briefly with his tongue and hand in her hair, before turning and walking away without a word, silently dismissing her.

Now as they deepened the aggressive kiss, she could feel him refusing to back away, his hands gripping her small back and pulling her close into his lap. He attacked her, possessed her, _owned_ her mouth after years of pent up need and punishment. Sharp teeth pricked her lip, rough lion-like growls tearing the air around them in his rush. When they finally parted for breath, his breathing was as ragged as hers, eyes wearily coming up to look at her slightly above him. Hawke traced over his horns, loving them. She always had. His breathing slowed slightly, though it still ran from him in paces, and he stared at her like the predator he sort of was. But his eyes suddenly softened and he broke, exhaling long and deep.

“Was it my kiss back then that started it?” she asked quietly. “The...distraction?”

“No. It...clarified.”

“Oh?”

He grunted, rocky voice even rougher in that moment from the kiss. “ _Kadan_ you were before, but not clearly for me to see it. Your action allowed me to see your desire was truly strong, to understand it more, and so make me rethink our respect.”

“But you didn't know I would be _kadan_ for you until you almost killed me?” Hawke asked, needing to understand with certainty how he felt.

“I was....”

“You...?”

His growl wasn't a surprise, but one hand let go of her and punched the earth beside them harshly; such a hit would have killed a human. “ _Vashedan!_ I feared. What I began to think went against the Qun. I could not feel, so I feared and I questioned things I had never before. I refused it until...I could not break your neck after you dropped your dagger. What I feared came true. I had failed. I had been corrupted when I couldn't be, not as Qunari and not as Arishok leading my people. I hated you when I left. Wished I'd broken your neck. And then...the image of you dead in my hands...I could not. I've never not been able to kill when the Qun demanded. It wasn't until I had all that time in the cell to think over my fall that the details returned. The reasons why my hand faltered—details of talks pointless to others but large in my mind. And I...wished to see you again. To hear you argue and annoy me. To...see...your eyes.”

“Luckily for you, I actually understand that and...sympathize with you,” she teased, a half-smile lifting her mouth sweetly, so in awe that she'd had _this_ big of an effect on the Arishok himself—and proud of it, too. “Not romantic for most women, mind you, but...it's like a rose for me. Thank you, _kadan_.”

He grunted again, annoyed with her. But he relaxed his fist and let his brow rest against hers, rubbing his head slightly there in something she'd learned was Qunari affection. “Your...absence...was noted.”

“So was yours.” Hawke sighed as she kept brushing her head to his. “I debated finding a way to break you out when I heard the rumors, before I got your letter. I was so angry that they hadn't listened to anything I wrote them.”

“Hawke.”

“What? You know me.”

“Too well,” he admitted, grunting a third time, but she could hear the amusement in this one before his face fell, sorrow defining every muscle. “I am without Qun, without anything. Nothing. Soulless. I am unsuitable for you. I did what I could to gain another weapon, merely for defense in my exile. I considered using it upon myself; though I agreed with most of their punishment, I wanted my death that had been denied. Taking it anyway would have been showing the anger you wanted me to have—the anger I do feel.”

“ _Arishok_ ,” she gasped, holding his face to hers, their eyes extremely close. “ _No_. You _can't._ You're not unsuitable!”

“After...an attempt and another inability, I meditated as to why. You were the answer. I remembered your words, your letters. I wished you to know my exile before I decided my death.”

“And I refuse you to do it!” she snapped, voice tearing in worry. “Please. Don't. You are _more_ than what your role was. You always were.”

He shook his head against hers, much like he used to when he found her saying something he thought ridiculous. But there was understanding in his eyes this time...and appreciation. “Hawke.”

“You came to me. You will not leave me,” she countered, her fingers gripping him strongly. “I will not let you.”

One heavy brow rose up. “No?”

“ _No_.” Hawke pressed a soft kiss to his amazing mouth, sighing. “You have me. You have your new ax—a new lease on life. A new soul, free to choose your own role and path. Free to have me as _kadan_ and more, as a mate you wouldn't have been allowed. Can't you see that?”

“Do you think I have not considered such, Hawke?” he countered, brow still risen.

Hawke glared at him. “You better have.”

A slow, persistent lift of his lip this time. A smirking smile. It melted her before his expression changed into something very dark and worrisome. “I heard about your corrupt city turning on itself. I should have brought it under the Qun successfully and spared you it. I...wanted to get my men away from it in the end.”

“Trust me, I doubt even that order would have helped Kirkwall. The problem was between the mages and templars and that insane Knight-Commander Meredith.”

“The order of the Qun would have settled such matters. Your _bas saarebas_ would have been given treatment and integrated or killed if they were too dangerous. That disastrous _bas_ would have lost her head.” He lifted his head back some to look at her better. “Deaths in the city would have been prevented. Innocent lives lost to demons and raging men.”

Hawke shook her head in disagreement. “Even so, they'd have fought you, then killed each other anyway.”

“Hm.” Silence for a few moments before he continued, “I took passage to the Free Marches. Paid starving _basra_ to give word about you. You had left. Even you could not defend such corruption any longer. I was...glad.”

“Never defended it. I just wanted to...give it order, like you wanted. I wanted to make it better,” she explained, one hand reaching to stroke his soft white hair. “But my sister is a mage, and I wanted to protect her once the war broke out beyond the city. When I heard about the Conclave, I...worried the Divine had plans to push through Kirkwall for 'order,' and I thought if I left Justinia would...be distracted hunting me instead, which did happen, but the Seeker took Varric because he wouldn't give me up. It was just for...a reason I had not anticipated. They wanted my _help_ , not my head.”

That brow rose again. Had he forgotten she was related to mages? How much of what happened did he even hear about? He sighed a little. “I followed. Traced your path. You had disappeared well.”

“Sorry.”

“It is good. It protected you when I...could not.”

Hawke let her fingers massage the nape of his neck, delighting in touching him so, at the novelty and allowance she was being given now after so many years of wanting. “Worried, huh.”

He closed his eyes tiredly and slumped against her, his great posture slouching uncharacteristically. “Not only is this...magister a threat, but there are others. One of my guard who'd respected you sent me warning when I was exiled from Par Vollen.”

“What do you mean? What warning?”

“Some of the Qunari—they are angered at my loss. They accept their new Arishok, but a group are unhappy over the situation that required the change.”

“Of course. That's why I didn't want them to do that in the first place. What you were...you were vital and perfect. Had I been Qunari, I'd have been proud to serve under you. But, Maker, you could do so much outside of it, too.”

He blinked at the compliment and huffed with a nod. Qunari didn't...well, he'd always shown her that actions came after, not thanks. Thanks were weak and invalidated the compliment to the Qunari, so he wasn't used to giving them. “They do not blame the leaders or the Qun. Not even me, some of them. They blame you, Hawke.”

Hawke took in a sharp breath of concern. “Shit. They think I purposefully manipulated you?”

“Yes. Even had your _bas saraabas_ use blood magic against me to corrupt me. They have sent spies, assassins for you, these angered ones, since my release in fears I would return to you.” He snarled and clutched her to him, long nose in her throat. “I had to find you first. They will not have you, _kadan_.”

Her lips trembled at the vehement declaration, the _emotion_ he was expressing so intently and openly in her presence. “How did you find me here?”

“You disappeared. Your dwarf did not. He is easily tracked when he is taken by force. Understand this means others can also follow.”

“I know. Still, bless Varric and that damn Seeker,” Hawke almost laughed and held him to her neck and chest, sighing. “Why did you try to fight the Inquisition people?”

He growled again, the vibrations racking her a little in ferocity. “I do not understand this organization. They fight the magister, but you were summoned and the dwarf stolen. I demanded they give you up, and if you weren't inside, that they give up the dwarf for information.”

“Ah. Yes, that would make you a threat then. They'd have thought you wished me harm,” Hawke stated, then bit her lip. “Varric had told me to come once Corypheus was identified. I was never in danger or a prisoner from the organization itself, I promise. And if any happened to _recognize_ you, they'd have thought you'd come for revenge. Maker, Cullen did recognize you, didn't he.”

At that thought and his complete silence, Hawke had another sharp inhale. “Oh shit. Varric. He....”

“The dwarf can wait.”

“No, what if he thinks.... Maker's breath.” Hawke clenched her jaw. “How will I explain?”

“You do not. Your concern is yours.”

“Bless you, love, but friends aren't that easy, especially ones who were there when we....” Hawke smiled and shyly kissed his crown and a few of his horns, dazed that she could _do_ so. “It might take some work with the Inquisitor to...cool things off, but if I am to stay briefly to plan, you will stay with me. I'll explain that you're not here to kill me.”

“Your...allies are extremely childish and simplistic to mistake worry for threat.”

“You did threaten _them_.”

“They are not you, Hawke.” He raised his head slowly, giving her time to move her chin so he wouldn't knock her with his horns. “No one is like you—so annoying, yet competent.”

Hawke grinned at him, lips pressing to his brow. “Maker, I missed your sass.”

“I do not sass.”

“Oh, yes you do, darling. You're the king of it, but it's sexy.”

He glared at her a little in annoyance, but she kissed him again, distracting him and getting a grunt for her effort. His eyes squinted. “You intend to fight the darkspawn magister.”

“Him and those he's controlling. I believe he's disrupted the Grey Wardens, and I aim to find proof.” Hawke bristled just thinking about that damn magister. “I killed him once. I know I did. I don't know how he survived. But it's my fault he was loose to be killed and yet live anyway. I have to fix this. All of those deaths are on me.”

“You take responsibility. That is the way of the Qun, Hawke,” he said, eyeing her.

She would have glared at him if she hadn't caught the crinkle near his eye, indicating a joke. Her brows went up her forehead. “Something tells me you wouldn't appreciate my converting now.”

“No.”

“That's what I thought.” Hawke sighed and forced herself from his lap, taking his hand as he rose next to her, tall and mighty and proud, resettling his weapon on his back. “Come. Let's go face this. Then you're going to eat. You've thinned, despite getting weight back during travel. And you _will_ show me every scar, and I _will_ take care of them.”

The once Arishok tilted his giant head, gently gazing at her. He was silent for several breaths before he quietly spoke. “Despite the loss of it all, the corruption of my purpose...I cannot say you aren't worth it, _kadan_. No other has....”

“Your people loved you. I know that.”

“Not as you do. Not as...I do you.”

A tear managed to sneak away from the wetness in her eyes and drift down her cheek. Hawke took one of his large hands and kissed the palm of it gently. “I am glad you've come. Now, if I can figure out what to call you that isn't your old title, we shall be even better.”

“Hm.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“I am not under the Qun anymore. I can...choose a name.”

“Right.”

“I had not considered so far. I will.”

They began walking back toward the bridge entrance of Skyhold, hands held firmly between them. Hawke felt so happy despite her guilt over his pain and exile. She could only groan inside, imagining just what she was going to have to say to smooth over his earlier reception.

 


	3. Set the Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's shocking to be with him. She knows. But it's also kinda hot watching him snap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.

Of course their reentry into the hold had caused _quite_ a stir.  
  
Gathered visiting nobles had gasped, their eyes instantly dropping from the huge Qunari to their held hands in shock. She'd walked with him, patiently to show they didn't bother them, all the way into the main hall where the Inquisitor had gathered with his advisers, speaking hushed near his throne.

Hawke had bowed her head some. “I apologize for the incident earlier. There was...a misunderstanding.”

“He threatened our men, Hawke. Demanded you. Don't think I don't know who he is,” Cullen almost growled at her in defense, but in his eyes was absolute confusion.

It was understandable. The last time the old Knight-Commander had seen the Qunari had been...not good. And now the enemy he'd known was holding hands with the Champion of his former city. Hawke gestured with her free hand. “He doesn't know the Inquisition. He was....”

“My lead said she had been summoned. Summoning often includes...imprisonment,” her Qunari love said next to her, gravelly voice a rumbling echo in the hall. And he'd know since...that was exactly what had happened to him. “Considering the dwarf was _taken_ , it was possible.”

Cullen's jaw dropped lowly. “You were... _concerned_?”

“Yes,” Hawke answered for him. “The Arishok and I were never enemies, Cullen. Friends, in fact, if you can call it anything.”

“He tried to kill you, Hawke!” Varric shouted out loudly as he ran over to them.

Poor Varric. Her best friend was so angry with her, riled up without knowing. Hawke turned, though, instantly on him to stop the anger. “He didn't kill me. He should have, by all honor, and he did not. And that decision has cost him _everything_ , Varric. You can't even begin to _grasp_ what it has done.”

“But I was _there_ , Hawke! He was strangling you, almost cut you in half with that sword! How can you let that go?”

“She stands here, yes?” the ex-Arishok rumbled next to her, shifting to subtly stand between them a little. Hawke caught the action, knew it was for protection, and smiled to herself. “I stand here. Nothing else matters.”

“Okay, why then?” Varric demanded, hands flinging upward.

Hawke gaped. “Uh, Varric.”

Varric grumbled at her, waving a hand. “I need to get this, Hawke. Why'd you let her go, Arishok?”

“I am not Arishok. There is only one, and that role has been refilled,” he'd replied instantly. “I betrayed the Qun for it and now suffer without it.”

“I'd say the suffering won't be all that terrible,” Hawke jested, hand sliding up the Qunari's strong muscled arm. He grunted at her, but once again she heard the amusement in it.

The others hadn't. Varric shook his head. “But _why_? Why are you here? Why _Hawke_?”

The silence over the main hall was almost consuming. The ex-Arishok glanced around the humans, elf Inquisitor, and then back down to her dwarven friend, purposefully ignoring the rest in the room as if they were cattle. “She is _kadan_ ,” he said pointedly, having no other words to explain in his cultured ways.

“Yeah, she said that earlier. What's it mean?”

“Referring to the chest, the heart, the ones we consider closest the Qun can allow, and yet...doesn't allow. No mates, no love, no marriage, and rarely friends that stay near,” a different voice answered. They all turned as another Qunari walked up to them. His horns were huge, but far different from the ex-Arishok's as the two squared off far down the sides of his shaved head. An eye patch covered over one eye. This Qunari looked different, Hawke felt. Much wider than the rest.

Instantly her _kadan_ shoved her behind him, a deathly rumble vibrating the room echoing from him, sounding huge and animal. It was a warning, and the last time she had heard it was when they'd fought. Hawke shuddered at it while nearby hands went to swords at sides, hushed whispering almost loud now.

The other Qunari stopped his movements in response. Thankfully the elven Inquisitor walked around them at that point without any fear and patted the eye-patched Qunari's arm. “This is my ally, the Iron Bull. We use his mercenary company.”

The ex-Arishok snarled low, pointed teeth baring themselves as he shoved Hawke back further behind him. “ _Ben-Hassrath_ ,” he accused.

Hawke's eyes instantly rounded as she leaned to look; she knew the Qunari word for spy from previous years in Kirkwall when she worked briefly with Tallis. The Iron Bull figure didn't refute the accusation, merely nodded. The Qunari in front of her rose higher in response, using his full height to intimidate.

“You _will_ _not_ touch her,” he threatened lowly. One large hand drifted back ever so casually to his ax handle. “None will.”

The Inquisitor frowned and looked to his ally while Hawke tried not to practically wet herself at how sexy it was seeing her Qunari beloved protect her. Maker, had he done something so blatant in Kirkwall, she'd have been a lost cause.

“What's he talking about?” Feran asked, eyes tight.

“There's...some...contracts,” Bull admitted, eye briefly flicking to Hawke before settling again on the ex-Arishok. “None I am interested in. Never my job or reason.”

She could almost feel the glare of suspicion on her love's face, and many of the Ferelden and Orlesian visitors gasped.

“There are contracts on Hawke in the Qunari?” Varric asked, running up next to them. “What the hell, Bull? Why didn't you tell me?”

The Iron Bull studied the Qunari before him, then bent his head in respect. The ex-Arishok snarled. “Do _not_ bow to me, spy!”

“Despite your removal, you will always be Arishok for some. I respect that,” the Bull said and shrugged his massively wide shoulders. “And...I respect what you did.”

“You dare say such things against your Qun?”

The Inquisitor intervened again, this time stepping between the two Qunari fully. “Bull...has left the Qun. When tasked between defending a dreadnought or his men, we chose his men who have always done us loyal service—they needed more defense, and the dreadnought should have been capable of protecting itself a little longer for us to arrive. The choice broke pact we had created with the Qunari. I did not trust the Qunari promise of allying against Corypheus without invasion of Thedas...and neither did Bull. If they could not fire upon a small group of Venatori to save themselves for a single moment while we split and regrouped, I did not consider their vouch of promise all that strong despite history itself.”

Hawke didn't know this elf well, just some of what Varric had told her that he liked, but this...this impressed the shit out of her. An elf more or less sticking it to the entire Qun. He had balls, that one. No wonder they'd made him Inquisitor.  
  
Her Qunari love seemed in as much surprise, and she could see him evaluating the elf anew in respectful consideration he'd once given her when she'd first surprised him. He must have come to some conclusion, because he said, “A failed test for you, elf, and an agreement on paper only carries meaning for those who believe in it.”

“As I thought,” the Inquisitor replied and frowned a little. “At any rate, our actions made Bull Tal-Vashoth. He no longer receives the _Ben-Hassrath_ reports.”

The Iron Bull nodded confirmation, arms crossed. “I wasn't...left the way you were, but they've sent some warnings. I've killed two assassins for me so far.”

Hawke sighed and slid her hand into her _kadan's_ as he slowly relaxed his stance. “Are the contracts for me for the entire Qun or a small minority?”

“A minor group. The Qun does not formally endorse it—but they haven't openly...discouraged it, either,” the Bull confirmed what the ex-Arishok had said, and it made her ill despite bringing relief. “These people wish to reinstate him if possible, which it isn't. So they want your head. They want the head of the one who turned him from his purpose.”

“Don't they understand I, too, didn't think he deserved it?”

“Doesn't matter.”

Her Qunari bared his teeth again, his grip tightening on her hand. “You _will_ keep me informed of any such spies or assassins attempting while she is here that you find. I will be looking, myself.”

“Of course,” came the easy response.

The Inquisitor had looked absolutely disturbed, glancing back to his human advisers. A redhead, a woman Hawke remembered as Nightingale Leliana, nodded once. “I will send out feelers.”

“Do it. My allies will not be harmed in my hold. Blood given carries more weight than gold given,” the Inquisitor almost shouted in anger, a harsh gaze now going straight around to the visiting nobles that jerked a little in response. Hawke appreciated it. His neat, almost crystalline green eyes landed on her then, the harshness gone. Instead there was understanding. Gentleness. Even a smile in them. No wonder Varric liked him. “We will continue our discussion later. I assume the former Arishok will be staying with you?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly, uncaring that the gasps grew louder. “In my allotted room. No need for quartering.”

The elf ignored more gasps of indignity and gave her a sharp nod, even bowing a little. “If you'll excuse me, my Antivan ambassador is going to have to get creative as we find a way to soothe the tempers.”

Hawke winced. “Sorry, Inquisitor.”

He paused, handsome face gauging her, then the Qunari beside her. The latter was whom he addressed, looking the ex-Arishok right in the eye. Again, it impressed Hawke and that respect wasn't lost on the tall man with her. “He is not the only one they have feared at first,” the elf muttered, bowed his head, and strode past them.

The Iron Bull tilted his huge head. “If you've questions, I'll answer them. Find me in the tavern.”

The ex-Arishok nodded above her in response. They watched him leave, then looked to Varric. The dwarf looked so...lost. So confused. Hawke bent and hugged him to her. “It's okay, Varric.”

“I just....”

“Think of the story you could write, my friend.”

“Maker, Hawke, it's less believable than the ones I _do_ write about you. I guess I could change the ending of the _Champion_ one, give it a special ending where you kiss the Qunari out of Kirkwall.”

“Do you disparage her reputation?” the gravelly voice asked above her.

Varric looked up, up, and then up some more. “No. She's always my hero. She just might be on a griffon half the time she kicks ass in them.”

A snort caught her hearing, making her chuckle. “Varric, dear. It'll be all right.”

“You...really love him, huh, Hawke,” Varric muttered, eyeing her with concern and support.

Hawke rocked back on her knees a moment, looking upward to find the Qunari behind her managing to look bored while very closely watching. She smiled once before glancing back to her dwarf friend. “Yes.”

“Andraste's tits, I don't get it. But I'll...I'll support you, Hawke. Always.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Hawke teased and hugged him tighter to her. “You're wonderful, Varric.”

“Oh I know. But you owe me a full story!”

She grinned as she let go of her friend and stood up. A strong gray hand landed on her shoulder then. “I promise, Varric.”

“Good,” Varric smiled back. “I'm gonna go...start to figure this out. See if I can find out if there are any dwarven pick ups on these contracts, or if it's just Qunari done. Carta better not be in on this.”

“Thank you,” the ex-Arishok spoke softly to both their surprise.

Varric merely smiled and bowed like the star he was. “Hey, no problem. No assassins are taking my best friend from me.”

“Come, _kadan_ ,” Hawke urged, taking the large hand from her shoulder and walking toward the kitchens to grab dinner. “We will eat and rest.”

They moved near where the Inquisitor was speaking with the pretty Antivan woman, her mouth going a mile a minute as she tried to turn the situation to their advantage. Hawke merely shook her head, amused.

 


	4. Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choosing a new identity for oneself is difficult enough.  
> For him, it's the base of a mountain.   
> For her, it's a waiting hand.   
> Together, it's a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay (meaningful) sex.   
> Orlesians smell flowery.   
> That is all.
> 
>  
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

“Maker, Hawke, why didn't you tell me?”

He was sore. Very, very sore. Hawke smiled at Varric as he rubbed his face. They stood outside her allotted room, one hidden down inside the keep and giving her absolute privacy. Inside the room her surprise visitor ate while she spoke with her friend, feeling guilty for not ever having explained it all. “Varric, what would you have said? You'd have thought I was crazy, then tried to keep me from any of it.”

“Duh, Hawke. The _Arishok_ as a lover is kind of a big deal, even in Kirkwall!”

“We were never lovers, Varric, not then. But we...grew close in ways we hadn't expected. It bothered him, and then he found he couldn't kill me because of it, in a great way as I couldn't him. Oh he wanted to. Wanted to grant me honorable death under the Qun, but...something stayed his hand against his will, his heart speaking otherwise.” Hawke closed her eyes, feeling minor guilt that he'd lost _everything_ for this. “You can't imagine what they did to him, Varric. I only saw a few of the scars.”

Varric lowered his head, shaking it briefly. “That's...fucked.”

“I know. He...accepts it for his failure, but does not deny his anger at it.”

“Shit.” Varric finally smiled at her. “How the fuck did you do it, Hawke? How'd you get _him_ to go against everything?”

“I hadn't planned anything. I just...listened. Respected. Joked some. He's...entertaining when he wishes to be. Most just don't see the amusement in his terse words,” she replied and scratched her forehead a little in the torch light. “I did kiss him once, though. Before the fight.”

Varric's eyes rounded so big she could almost see herself in them. “You...did...what?”

“Remember I said I had a Bianca? Don't worry, though. He didn't hurt me. Just walked away after giving a little back in surprise.”

“ _The Arishok_ was the guy? Maker's _balls_ , Hawke, why did you risk that?”

“Have you looked at him? He's...bigger than life.”

“I'll grant you that. He's _huge_.”

Hawke chuckled and uncrossed her arms. “Varric, you know what I mean. He just...crept in and overshadowed everything else. Despite our differences, I've never had another man ever treat me as well...or one I've wanted as much. I knew if he'd been born elsewhere, or I, that our destiny would have been very different together.”

“So we're gonna overlook the almost killing then and the Qun stuff.”

“I accepted his challenge to spare Isabela, Varric. I took the consequences that would come with it,” Hawke countered, frowning. “You know that. And, in the end, I dropped my dagger...with that acceptance and without blame on him.”

They stood silent for several moments before her friend started laughing to himself in partial relief and some terrible thought, no doubt. Hawke eyed the infamous dwarf with suspicion, and he finally cracked. “I'm just imagining all my giant nieces and nephews.”

“Shit, Varric.”

“What? Don't tell me that won't be a result someday.” He grinned at her, one fist love tapping her hip. “We could have prevented an assault if you'd have just walked into that compound naked with a dagger and the book.”

Hawke burst out laughing, just trying to imagine the sight and the shock on the faces of the Qunari there, right up to the look on the Arishok's own face. It would have to have been utter surprise, uncontrolled reaction smothered by a very arrogant smirk, no doubt. “Maybe, Varric. He....”

“What?”

She shifted a little against the wall. “It's been so hard, Varric. Imagine never having such emotions in your life, always being told they are trivial and distracting, and now they're all you have left.”

That sobered the dwarf up some. He sighed and looked to the heavy wooden door behind her. “You know...despite everything, Hawke, I never hated him. Maker knows Petrice and the rest fucked over his people. I even...trusted him a little with you. Never knew why.”

“I was confident. That helped.”

“Yeah.” Varric blew out a breath, tilting his cute face to look at her. “So. He staying?”

“With me? Yes. The...contracts worried him. He trailed me all the way here, relieved I wasn't easy to follow in his own frustration.”

“Maker, Hawke, that still scares me. Those kind have spies that are so good at hiding in plain sight.”

Hawke took that moment to ask him a question that had burned her. “Do you trust the Qunari ally of the Inquisitor?”

“Bull? Yeah. He was...a lot like the Arishok after he chose his men. It's genuine, Hawke. He's a good guy.” Varric snorted a little. “Might like hunting dragons and sex a little _too_ much, though. Would have fit in the Hanged Man perfectly.”

“I see.” Hawke sighed a little, relieved to hear such an opinion from her most trusted friend.

An elven servant seemed to appear out of nowhere, bowing as she grew close to them. “My Lady Hawke, the Lord Inquisitor has requested I tell you water is being brought for bath. Is your tub ready?”

“It will be in a moment. Thank you, miss.” Hawke smiled at the elf, missing her own servant that she'd let go with a generous sum to her family she'd rediscovered. Sweet Orana. “Don't fear, dear.”

“Yeah, Lumia. Hawke's as gentle as a fly.”

The elf blushed a little and bowed her head.

“Of course, that makes the Qunari in there a huge house fly, doesn't it?” Varric joked, lighting up as Hawke shook her head at him again. “Maker, hearing him earlier...he's still got it, that great 'make-you-shit-your-pants-in-terror' way.”

She saw the elf pale again, and gestured for her to calm down, saying, “Don't worry about him. It's all right.”

“Trust her, Lumia. Let the servants know there isn't anything to fear, okay?”

Lumia bowed her dark head again, smiling this time and bid them good wishes as she left to confirm the water readiness. Varric sniffed and glanced upward. “That tub even big enough?”

“We'll manage.”

“We? Gonna fit in there with him?” Varric laughed and waved her off as he turned. “This is gonna be so weird, Hawke.”

“You'll get over it,” she teased and hugged him to her stomach, waving as he left. Hawke tapped the door and cracked it, declaring her presence.

The Arishok was inside, sitting a bit stiffly in a chair near a small table. Most of the food had been devoured, thankfully, but he was staring into the fire as if he was made of stone. Hawke closed the door behind her and walked past the large metal tub to him, her fingers drifting to catch his cheek. “Are you all right?”

That snapped him out of his stare. Gold rimmed eyes looked up, weighing her, before he nodded tightly. She shook her head at him and stepped gently behind, fingers trailing to his neck and rubbing there, thumbs digging into the beginnings of his shoulders while her nails scratched his scalp. A gentle humming came from him in response. Hawke bent and kissed his ear, still so happily surprised he was here with her. Open. That she could show him how deeply she'd always felt. “The bath will be readied shortly.”

“Hm.”

“I will aid you because I wish to. It will please me to do so. Got it?”

A snort, then a lift of his shoulders as he tilted his face back to look up at her. Maker, he was so gorgeous. Hawke bent and kissed him, sighing as his lips parted for her and she flicked her tongue past his sharp teeth. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable.

“Then, after we are both clean and resting, you will not hold back. You will find release you've needed for so long,” she continued as her lips brushed up over his brow. “You will make me yours in body as you have in soul.”

An actual gentle groan hit her ears, and she grinned, knowing she'd perfectly said what she had needed to say. Eyes warmed on her in concern. “You know not what you ask, _kadan_. My restraint is necessary.”

“I trust you.” He stared at her in silence so intense she could have cut it with her dagger and felt the pieces of it. Hawke kissed him again, his eyes open this time. At the slight knock on the door, she let go of him to answer it, looking back once to say softly, “And I need release with you.”

Gold eyes blinked twice before he coughed and looked back to the fire, stretching out comfortably now. Hawke smiled to herself at the curious look he'd acquired, then answered the door. Two servants greeted her with timid smiles and gestured to the large buckets of steaming water. Hawke swung the door open farther, and she noticed him watching the humans closely as they emptied the hot buckets, part-way filling the tub. Lumia returned, handed her a small basket of what looked like Orlesian bathing supplies, and bowed as they all left.

Hawke sniffed it, raising her brows in pleasant surprise. There was a note attached with gorgeous handwriting. It read, “To the Champion and her Companion, a token of faith and affection on behalf of the Inquisitor and Inquisition.” That Antivan was a genius.

“I do miss such trivial things,” she murmured, lifting one of the rolled towels to sniff the floral scents inside. Hawke sat the basket on the table and extended a hand in his face. “C'mon.”

He smirked at her, rather visibly for once, and took her hand to stand. Hawke eyed the clasps and leather belts of his armor pieces, then let her fingers work up and begin to undo them, slowly and methodically, working until his smaller shoulder and arm pieces slid off, then the chest covering. Hawke caught her breath at his scarred, but still beautiful broad, developed chest and stomach regardless of the weight he had lost, and her hands stroked over the skin there with gentleness. Her dark eyes drifted upward with more openness than she'd been prepared for. “You're so beautiful, even still.”

An elegant tilt of the massive head, then soft eyes as he took in her words. Hawke slid her hands off of his chest and politely backed away, moving with his armor pieces to place them somewhere they wouldn't be stepped on or bothered. She could hear him undressing still—undoing the ties of the sash over his pants and smaller armor pieces on his legs. Then she heard soft steps and the water being roughly displaced as he slid into the large tub. Hawke finally turned back at the confirmation, a bit impressed that he fit well enough that he only had to bend his knees somewhat. She saw his heavy eyes closing a moment in the heat, wondered how long it had been since he'd had such a simple pleasure. It broke her to consider it.

Softly she undid her own armor until she was in her underclothes. Hawke slid his previous chair, the one he'd so largely dominated, over until she was sitting behind the tub. She flipped through the baskets contents and found towels, Orlesian hair treatments, a body scrub mix, and a soft loofah.

Hawke went for his hair first. She knew it was a source of pride for him, keeping it so pristine, and travel and his conditions had dulled it quite a bit. Hawke asked him to lean forward so she could run water down his head, rising it first. Then she took some of the Orlesian stuff, thankfully very mild in scent, more of just a wash, and scrubbed the long white hair, nails scratching over his scalp near his horns and working those areas especially. Long sighs reached her ears, letting her know how much it was appreciated. She worked it diligently, then rinsed it well, letting it hang over the back of the tub as she re-situated. With a smile she took the scrub mix and loofah and sat closer to him. Her hands reached up and rubbed over his broad, bare shoulders, trailing up to his neck and working the muscles there. He was humming, the sound loud enough to vibrate the water some. The small detail fascinated Hawke, making her smile as she leaned forward and kissed his ear.

Her action made him catch his breath. Were their ears so sensitive? Like an elf's? How curious, she thought, and did so again before sliding her arms down around his neck and holding him a moment. She swallowed a tad shakily. “I never...dreamed this could be between us. Never knew how strongly you felt. Just that there was always something...stronger about your respect. Thank you for giving it chance.”

He shifted in the water, sloshing it slightly as he adjusted one leg, stretching it up against the edge of the side. “Despite all being Qun with _viddathari_ , it is uncommon for one of mine to mate with humans or elves, especially with my role. It was not...normal to consider you at first in any sense unless the circumstance I spoke of was made. You are human, annoying and small.”

“I think you like annoying and small, love. Do you believe you'll break me when we are together?” she asked, teasing, but a bit concerned. He was at least twice her size in every way.

Water ran down his left arm as he raised his hand and looked at the scarring there around his wrist. “No. But you will have pain.”

“I can live with it. Besides, humans are more physically resilient than you think. We can get used to things, find pleasure even in some pains.”

He shifted his huge head, turning to the side to look over his shoulder at her. “Do you...like pain, Hawke?”

“Certain kinds,” she admitted. “Being stabbed, no. Being...bitten? Yes.”

His nostrils flared at that and he blinked, huffing a bit. With a slight nod of acknowledgment he turned forward again. Hawke took sprinkled some of the scrubbing salts over the water, trying to keep her eyes politely away from his crotch, and dug her fingers into the gritty salve. She started working it over his muscles, loosening what felt like a thick wall of stone under her fingers. He sniffed with a grunt. “Smells female.”

It was a bit floral, but not nearly as much as it could have been, and Hawke knew it. “It's a puffy Orlesian style. Even their men use it.”

“Then they are female.”

“It's what I have. You tell me what to make that you like, I'll make it or find it.” Hawke smirked behind him and kissed his cheek. “I like your smell anyway.”

He snorted again in disbelief. “You cannot scent like Qunari can.”

“You always smelled like leather. Sweat, but good sweat—male and delicious. The scents of your paints. Oil from working on your armor and weapons. Sand and wind and spices from whatever you used to use on your skin.” Hawke closed her eyes for a moment as she scrubbed down his upper arms, taking a breath and remembering that strong, delicious smell back in the compound. “Never had someone's scent get me hot before.”

“Not so human a nose, then.” It took a second before she registered the vibration she heard as the chuckle it was. “Such reaction is common with our females. Scent, taste. Important for breeding properly. Unsatisfied females don't breed well.”

Hawke slid her chair to his left a bit, working the scrub down his arm as he watched her curiously. “Were you...bred before? Often?”

“Yes.”

She couldn't stop her wince in time. It wasn't that she hadn't expected it; Maker, if she found him delicious, his own females had to have gone insane over him, especially with his powerful role in the past.

“You disapprove.”

Hawke blinked and looked up, catching the narrowed gaze as he evaluated her. She shrugged and lifted his hand, working the scrub there and digging into the tight muscles of his palm, spreading her thumb against it and stretching the skin. He actually closed his eyes as he took a deep breath of pleasure, the very quiet groan her signal. “I don't disapprove. You were what you were, and I'm sure you were sought after because of it. It makes sense.”

“Yet your scent spices with anger, Hawke. You are distracted in distracting me.”

“Not anger so much as...well. I...can't say I relish the idea that many others have touched you this way, but I do not fault you,” Hawke admitted softly under her breath. But he heard her as clearly as if she'd shouted it across Skyhold.

He suddenly bent his head, catching her attention as his brow bumped hers with a tad of force, but just enough to focus her. “ _None_ have touched me this way.”

“W-What?”

“I was bred, Hawke. I bedded females. I was not...touched the way you touch, with emotion. Pleasure and emotion, needless emotion, could not mix in such a situation. It was...a duty. Nothing more,” he explained to her, the heavy voice dragging even lower as he thought and leaned back. “Servants cleaned me before and after each breeding, but not with...this. Females bedded me with demands for pleasure and purpose, not comfort. That was the way.”

Hawke sighed, lifted his fingers higher and kissed the backs of them. “The Qun may do some good things for its people, but it strips you of simple happiness you'd never know. Like this. Does it make you happy, this touching?”

A slow nod. “Yes.”

“Explain to me what you like.”

Maker, even his eyes looked amused at her as he rumbled, “Such strength in little hands. You...possess...in your touch, Hawke. You claim as you heal.”

“Yes, well, you are my _kadan_.”

The phrase unexpectedly caused him pause, and she noticed it. She wasn't sure why it was tripping him up so much—he'd not claimed dislike of the word in reference to himself before. Suddenly he was frowning deeply, then closing his eyes before reopening them heatedly on her and making her heart speed up. The hand she was scrubbing moved to lightly rub down her bare arm, fingers pressuring but not hurting, claws trailing but not breaking the skin. He said nothing, but she'd figured it out. He was trying to return the favor, since she was _kadan_ to him. It mystified her how he must feel in this ground-breaking new territory. His large hand slid up to her face, cupping most of the right side of it easily into his palm. Hawke smiled at him and nuzzled it, kissing it briefly.

“Does your past breeding mean you...had children?” she asked, too curious to let it go. It didn't matter, but she wondered.

He grunted at her question, clearly a bit uncomfortable but uncertain as to why he was. He let her take his hand, finishing scrubbing it before she used the loofah to gently rinse it all off, fingers first and then upward. “Yes,” he finally said. “I bore _imekari_.”

“Lots, I'd assume.”

“I was never informed. Just that there was success. That is what mattered—my strength could breed more like me for bettering the Qun.”

Hawke frowned a little, holding his wrist. “You never met one?”

He shook his head. “It was not possible. _Imekari_ are not...raised your way, Hawke. They did not know me as I did not know them.”

“Well if _we_ have _imekari_ , you are gonna father them. You will know them, and they will know you, love you, admire you,” Hawke vowed quietly. For the first time since they'd met, she'd actually shocked him into stunned silence. “They will know the wonder of their father.”

His jaw had lightly dropped, parting his lips, eyes unguarded in surprise. They searched her relentlessly, gauging how much she meant it, her intent. Finally he coughed, tilting his head quite a bit to the side as he stared. “You would...desire such a future.”

“Yes, _kadan_ ,” she whispered with a small smile. “If you would.”

“I have never...there was never possibility before. Never a thought for such a thing.” He blinked a few times, obviously letting his mind wander with it, gold eyes settling on her appreciatively and dropping down her neck before returning to her face. “Mm. Perhaps, _kadan_.”

She hummed with a nod, not pressing, just shoving the information away for future discussion. Her heart had jumped into her throat as she felt the deep scar at his wrist. Hawke looked to him immediately, turning his hand over to intently study the large scar there. “Maker, love. What have they done?”

His eyes slid away, unable to look at it. “As the Qun demanded they do.”

“The Qun doesn't demand such barbarity. And if it actually does, then fuck the Qun.”

Years ago that would have meant her head or perhaps a serious tongue-lashing, depending on his mood. He grunted now in agreement, something he probably never would have seen himself capable of doing in the past. Hawke kissed over it, whispering soft words of love and support and apology as she kept washing the scrub from him; her lips left warm trails up his entire shoulder and back to his neck where she'd started, each scar lovingly tended to personally. In comfortable silence she completed the task on his other side, mirrored down to the kisses. But somewhere in all of it, between his quiet acceptance, he'd grown a little impatient.

“Undress, _kadan_.”

Hawke returned the loofah to the table and rose from the chair to undo her small clothes. She was nervous, understandably so as it was his first time seeing her so bare. Fully bare. And if she joined him in the water, she'd finally get to see and feel all of him, too.

“Hawke, look at me,” he rumbled, catching her eye. She took a breath and did so, fingers going to the laces of her leather strap that kept her breast binding together. His eyes never left hers, not even as she bent to undo the rest of the clothing and slid it all off. Only when she was fully bare before him did he slowly drop his eyes and drink her in like she was the best of Par Vollen wines. The water vibrated with his rumbling of contentment as his gaze slid down her throat, over her small, curvy breasts, to her hips, and then to her sex and down her legs.

Those gold touched eyes jumped back to hers instantly. “You are beautiful, Hawke.”

She smiled at him and bowed her head in thanks.

“Come,” he demanded and opened his arms over the sides.

Hawke walked over and debated how to climb in and rest in the very crowded tub. The ex-Arishok wasn't having her hesitation and with an easy grip, grabbed her and lifted her over the tub, settling her in the still very warm water and resting her against his chest with her back. Hawke moaned a little, feeling that expanse of heated skin, his hard thighs under and against her as she bent her legs against his. He shifted under her, and that was when her eyes popped. It was one thing to feel a man's erection against her lower back intimately, but it was quite another when that man was well over six and a half feet tall and almost two of her wide with a rack of Qunari horns. What she felt against her was massive, not as long as to be _entirely_ worrisome, but very thick. And extremely hard.   
  
Well, he had tried to warn her.

She fought the urge to stretch against him like a cat, eyes softening a little as she heard him moving a bit; warm, large hands settled over her neck, and she could feel the scrub on his fingers, smell it as he rubbed her skin gently, working the muscles. He spent a long time working over her in silence. Hawke eventually sat forward and let him work on her back, then turned a little and, using the loofah, scrubbed down his chest, then over his legs with the scrub on it. His feet were surprisingly narrow for being so long and belonging to him. She found herself rather liking that.

“You honor me,” he whispered in awe.

“I care for you,” she tried to explain, smiling as she rinsed him off.

He shifted her in the water so her knees were over his thighs, between his back and the sides of the tub. Hawke's breath caught as she felt him press right against her, right where she'd been throbbing for a while now. His eyes had taken on a look she'd not seen on him before—pure hunger. She held still as he washed the rest of her, fingers grazing her legs.

“That Qunari wasn't wrong. You'll always be Arishok in some ways,” she said, leaning forward to hold his face. “And it is hard to not slip the tongue with the title.”

“An inaccuracy. Deadly, as there is an Arishok with an army that is not me.”

“Then we need a word,” she said, smiling a little. “A new name. Something you can choose that has purpose and meaning for you in freedom.”

He tilted his face. “A few words seem appropriate. _Shokrakar_.”

“Meaning?”

“Rebel.”

“Who'd have thought?” she teased, stroking his horns and missing the beautiful gold bands that once decorated them. Hawke internally vowed then to find him more. “Tell me another.”

He frowned a bit as he thought. “ _Ashkaari_.” Hawke watched him, thoughtful, as he expanded, “ _Ashkaari_ is 'one who seeks.' It was the role Koslun took.”

Hawke's eyes frowned a little as he continued to frown, and she wondered if it was the role comparison to the writer of the tome that got them here. Quickly, she asked, “Would you care for a shorter version? Just Ash? It's a human word, too. It is what is left after fire, and things can grow out of it.”

He hummed. “ _Ash_ alone means 'to seek' in Qunlat. Fitting. I sought more than the Qun with you. I seek much in this world now. It does not matter; I would not be a true _ashkaari_ as the role anyway.”

“I _like_ it,” she smiled and pressed her face close to his. It helped that the word was close to the title he'd had; it would be easier to switch over to using, and it just...fit him. The very sound fit him. Hawke kissed his brow. “Ash.”

“Hm.”

“Like it?”

Strong hands slid down her small back, overlapping each other as they caressed her. “It is acceptable,” he said, eyes on hers.

Hawke grinned widely. “Care to hear a joke, Ash?”

“It will be terrible.”

“Pff. Why do you say that?”

“Because it comes from you,” he countered, smirking in his tone alone.

Hawke huffed and sat back on his lap, straddling him a little in the tightness of the tub. “Well. You'll hear it anyway. I was teased that had I come to the compound of yours naked with one of my daggers and your relic, you might have been satisfied enough to not attack at all. It could have been the most peaceful interaction with Qunari that Thedas has seen.”

His eyes roamed her bare chest as she spoke, and she could feel him growling a little despite the smirk obviously fighting to dance on his lips into being. “Such...a sight...would not have been unpleasant.”

“That so?”

“The others no doubt would have found puzzled humor in it. Perhaps thought you sought a strong male to satisfy you and so paid tribute to earn my favor.”

Hawke laughed. “And you?”

Ash looked up intensely, the smirk finally blooming visually clear. “I would have left that wretched city with the relic. And _you_.”

Hawke's mouth went dry as he grabbed her and pulled her close, teeth nipping at her neck. Her small fingers wound through his wet hair as he reached for the tie in hers and tugged at it, snapping the leather into pieces that fell in the water around them. Instantly her hair loosened and tumbled down her shoulders, a dark gold color. He took one look at her and swiftly stood, lifting her with him and letting the water drip off of them both for a few moments. Hawke then watched with extreme interest and excitement as he held her to him with one hand and reached over for a towel, cracking it out next to them to unfold it. It made an impressive snapping noise, catching her attention before he wrapped it around them and stepped out of the tub. Quickly his hands roughly dried her back, and he walked over to the bed in the room. It wasn't really large enough even for him alone, but that just meant they'd be very cozy.

“You've worn your shackles before me for some time, letting me see the key I have. I will free you, Hawke,” he promised quietly, but firmly.

Hawke was lowered onto the blankets and one top bear fur with preciseness. He watched her, gauged her, eyes running everywhere as he planned his method of attack. Her own eyes dropped down his handsome, amazingly thick body to where he stood erect, almost pointing at her. Staring at him there, she knew she'd never both feared and needed something more in her entire life. Ash eyed the bed, possibly worried it could break under his heavy weight, but Hawke leaned up on her arms and kissed his chest, her tongue swirling over his skin. He hissed, face falling back a second, then within the blink of an eye he was over her, the bed protesting at his added weight.

She moaned at this touch as he braced himself on his arms over her, lower body pressing to hers a bit. His large cock rested against her, sliding a little over her belly and downward as he lifted his hips some. Hawke couldn't take it. She reached up, arms wrapping around his thick neck, and kissed him deeply. Ash growled, the sound not threatening but arousing, and he shifted his weight so one hand could freely run down her body. Hawke cried out as he cupped her breast, squeezing for several moments while claws lightly toyed with her nipple, and slid downward, large fingers curiously touching her sex. He slid one finger inside, stretching her, gold threaded eyes hot on her.

Hawke felt herself jerk in relief as he sensually invaded and touched her. She'd not had a partner since they'd met, turning down offers if for no other reason than not wanting to feel guilt over wishing it was he and not them. Fenris almost...once, but...too much had gone wrong. Her hand jerked down his body, skittering over the huge planes of his chest and flat belly, then lightly stroked over the tip of him. Ash let out a snarl and thrust forward at her touch, excited and rough. Hawke stroked him, watching as he tried to keep focus by inserting a second finger inside of her, then a third in preparation. She kept up the motions until he suddenly yanked away from her. Startled, she was about to demand to know what was wrong, if she'd done something uncomfortable, but she quickly found herself flat on her back, legs on his shoulders while his hot mouth attacked her core. Hawke bit her arm to avoid screaming; she knew the sound would echo a little bit and didn't want anyone coming to find out what it was.

He lapped at her with a rough tongue, not letting up in his relentless pursuit of exploration and claim. Sharp teeth nipped her inner thigh, and Hawke let loose, crying out around her arm as she clenched in orgasm. Ash inhaled deeply above her, entire body rumbling with a deep noise of pride before he licked her clean and rose up. Hawke was panting below him, completely in awe of the intensity of sensations she'd just felt. Her dark eyes found him lifting her legs a little, bending his shoulders somewhat. Then she felt him nudge her.

“Don't stop,” she demanded and threw her head back as he immediately complied. Hawke almost screamed as he pushed forward, thankfully not with a burying move that could tear her, but with intent, stretching her as her body tried to accommodate the enormous girth. “Ah!”

Ash growled low above her in pleasure, face softer than she'd ever seen as he closed his eyes and opened his mouth, finally sheathing himself inside of her. It was an extremely tight fit, even with her stretching, and Hawke fought the tears that tried to form in her eyes from a physical reaction to it. Maker, she was worried it might actually be too painful, her thoughts straying, but then he moved. The thrust was long and slow at first. He was testing her body. Hawke snapped her eyes open and found his weighing her as his hands rested on her hips. When he started to withdraw, she lifted her hips and took him back in a little, eyes glaring at him.

With a smirk Ash came down over her, lifting her lithe hips as he slammed into her, growling and biting her neck. Hawke's eyes rolled in her head at the feel of his thickness still stretching but no longer hurting as much. Feeling amazing, in fact, as it slid in and out so deeply. She'd deal with the pelvic bruising tomorrow.

“So...warm, _kadan_ ,” he growled out breathlessly, obviously enjoying it.

Her slickness and his movements finally synchronized, and it got much easier to move. He sped up his thrusts a little, smacking into her pelvis, and tried not to crush her with his chest and much heavier weight. Bruises began to bloom under her skin for her to feel, but it didn't matter at all. Seconds later Hawke moaned again and came apart; Ash stilled, possibly absorbing the sensations of it, and before Hawke could even blink he'd rolled with her on top of him. The mighty Qunari was panting, horns bracing their tips near the bed frame and scratching a little. Her brown eyes met his golden black in mild wonder at how supremely well he filled her, how beautiful he was below her. Slowly she rotated her hips, grinding against him inside. Ash's eyes lit up fiercely as he dropped his head back a little. Hawke licked over his chest lazily, drifting up with her mouth to suck his earlobe, hands sliding down his belly and over his firm ass that she could reach. Claws pricked her hips in his grip while he moaned, the sound the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard as his rough voice deepened even more, but softened its texture all the same. He pushed himself up somewhat and licked her throat a few times as she kept grinding.

“Let me love you. Let me worship you,” Hawke said, fingers loving his skin as she kissed all over his face, his horns.

Ash choked, staring through lidded eyes, before he sighed her name. “Hawke.”

He let her explore his body as she rode him lightly, more pushing forward than upward. But it became too much. “I...cannot...restrain,” he growled under his breath. It would have been an apology for most, but it was a complete warning from him.

“Then don't.”

Pain flooded her senses briefly as she felt his sharp teeth sink into her neck; Hawke gasped loudly at the action, then cried out as Ash took control by lifting her hips up and down, forcing her to ride him while his teeth's grip tightened. Hawke groaned out, feeling almost like a ragdoll at that point but heavily enjoying it. His strong neck caught her eye and she leaned forward, biting him just as aggressively. Ash almost roared against her, and Hawke pushed her hips to move even in his lifting of them until she was riding him on her own with the same rhythm. He let go of her throat, some blood on his lip as he groaned out low, head throwing itself back and hands supporting his upper body. Hawke scratched down his chest with her fingernails, gripping his hips to anchor herself.

“Come, Ash!” she managed to gasp, almost all of her energy spent rushing to get him there.

The Qunari jerked his head to the side, panting. A feral growl ripped from him, and he lifted her right off, turned, and bent her over the bed. Hawke's face was smashed into the fur until she was almost smothered, a huge hand on her back holding her still as the other gripped her ass and he slid back inside. Ash pounded into her, rocking the entire bed and creating so much sound of wood scraping and flash smacking that there was _no_ _doubt_ as to what was going on in their room; his pants were even louder now, a growl non-stop in his throat as he got closer and closer.

“Please _kadan_ ,” Hawke begged, clenching for one more orgasm. She almost screamed it out in her over-sensitized state. “Ash!”

Ash took a couple gaping breaths, increased his speed for a few more thrusts then slammed into her harshly until she felt him rough in her womb; claws broke skin as he drug down her back and hip and exploded with a sexual snarl. Hawke almost shook from the heaviness of his orgasm—it felt like he coated her a few times, and it was very warm inside when he did. Ash's hips twitched, legs having minor spasms as he gasped for breath.

Slowly Hawke came back into herself, looking over her shoulder to find Ash doing the same. His amazing eyes stared down at her in pure wonder, then slowly slid over her back and hips in his hands. At first he frowned, but it left his face as he forced himself to come out of her with an almost popping noise. Hawke sighed, feeling all of the soreness immediately hit her despite how _good_ she felt for it. His large hands lifted her up and carried her not to the bed but back to the bath. Hawke opened her tired eyes, confused and almost yelped when he slowly let her sink into the water that had mildly cooled down.

She looked up at him, startled. “Ash?”

“Sit up,” he commanded, taking the chair behind her. Hawke winced a little and obeyed. It was at that moment she realized she had stinging cuts over her back and hips, burning at her neck. Purple and green bruises in the shapes of fingers all over her belly and hips, mild other bruising on her thighs. Extreme soreness in her pelvis. And she didn't regret a single damn one of those effects.

Ash grabbed a rag, wet it, and carefully wiped the blood from her neck after he licked it once, his breathing finally calm. Hawke tried not to shiver as the rag touched the marks on her back and kept her eyes off the water, especially after she realized his seed had come out of her and there was a fair amount of it. He washed her wounds a few times until satisfied, then lifted her back out of the tub and dried her off gently on his lap. Hawke was so sore she wasn't sure she could have lifted herself and so was grateful for all of his help. He kept her wrapped in the towel and moved for the bed, throwing back the furs and lying down upon it with her against him.

He was too damn quiet.

“Hey,” she finally coughed out and looked up, palm on his warm chest.

Ash looked down on her, waiting.

Hawke reached up and stroked his cheek. With a slight wince, she rose up and forced herself to semi-lay over him, leaning forward enough to kiss his ear. He growled at her, frustrated. “You regret?” she asked quietly, unable to look at him.

Sharply he looked to her, furious. “No. I do nothing with regrets.”

“Then why are you so mad? What's wrong?”

He grumbled and looked at her intensely before glancing away. “I warned you.”

“I told you not to restrain yourself, love.” Hawke grabbed his handsome jaw and turned it back to her. When he said nothing, she continued, “I'm fine, Ash. Sore, but I'll get used to it. _I want_ to get used to it.”

“Females...have thicker...skin than yours. Sex can be dangerous, rough. Cause injury, especially when in heat.” Ash shrugged at her. “This is what you wanted.”

Ah. He thought _she'd_ have regrets. And after so much abandonment...well. He was a bit more vulnerable than usual.

“If you think I have regrets, then you're mistaken.” Hawke smiled at him and lightly kissed his soft lips. “I heal, Ash. And yes, it's exactly what I wanted. I didn't expect sex with a Qunari to be gentle. There will be times where it will be even rougher, even more wonderful no doubt, and I'll deal with any wounds from that, too.”

At that he looked in her eyes, almost grateful. Then, as if that concern had never been there, a smugness settled right over his face. “You were brought to satisfaction three times in one mating.”

“A record, good ser, and I'm sure we'll top it soon,” she admitted, but smirked right back at him. “You seemed satisfied, yourself.”

Ash tilted his head and actually smiled at her. Really smiled. Not a smirk or a slight twist of the corner of his lips, but a brief full on grin. It made him look so much younger, so free and not so severe. Hawke melted as her heart momentarily stopped, even cooed a little at the sight in awe, thinking back to how she used to longingly imagine what his smile would look like—and yes, it was blinding. He stroked her cheek with a long clawed finger. “Yes, _kadan_. I was satisfied well.”

“Good. I...wasn't sure what you'd want. I just knew I had to give it to you. Touch you as you always should have been.”

He shook his head, but his eyes were understanding. “I require nothing special. Mating is mating, Hawke. But I enjoy your touch.”

“Do Qunari not have foreplay or what?”

“Females can be prepared more by servants if necessary during breeding, as can males to a degree. But it is...not.... Rutting is...different than mating, and it is the experience I have had most—mindless sex. Instinct breeding without interference.”

Hawke's jaw dropped. Slowly she closed it, eyes lighting up. “Then I wish to give you a gift during another time of mating.”

“I can mate several times in one evening,” he drawled, one heavier brow slightly raised. It would have been a boast from any other man. For him, it was a simple fact.

“I can try, but I might lose myself to exhaustion with this night,” she explained and patted his chest. “Let me sleep and I might wake you with a surprise, though.”

“Hm,” he grunted in curiosity, chuckling at her eye roll. “What is this gift, _kadan_?”

“What you did for me, but for you.” He looked puzzled as she adjusted and licked his ear, getting a sharp growl. Hawke leaned close and whispered, “My mouth on your fantastic cock.”

Ash sucked in a tight breath and went quiet. He shuddered a moment, then forced her to turn over. Satisfied her back wasn't bleeding, he took the towel off and covered them with the fur and blanket, pulling her tightly to his chest.

“Have you ever had that before?” she asked, curious. Surely he had. Surely those females had _worshiped_ him.

“No.”

The answer really surprised her, but it was all the motivation she needed. “But you gave it to me.”

“A way to prepare you. I had not...realized it could be gifted so. I never asked for it, never needed it to be ready for a rutting. When instincts are kept back in celibacy until a certain point, one does not need any more preparation.”

“Then I take pleasure in becoming the only one to give you such satisfaction. Your body will be given the utmost attention it deserves,” she whispered. Hawke briefly rolled and tilted her face up, kissing his jaw behind her. “Sleep well, love.”

“Rest, _kadan_. You will need it.” Ash gave her a look that she could see meant it was an order. His eyes were growing heavy, though. One gray palm cupped her cheek, and he kissed her gently, tugging on her lower lip. When he released her she went back to her side and curled against him, sighing at how warm he was, how reassuring his arm's weight was over her side, his massive form behind her like a shield. Sleep soon overtook them, and it was the most calm she'd felt in years.

 


	5. Spy in the Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke is sore. Ash cracks a skull. Cassandra can't keep her eyes off Lavellan's ass. And the Iron Bull takes mild comfort in knowing that some things are consistent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Ash.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

The Iron Bull eyed the once Arishok as the mighty male kept a very watchful gaze on Hawke across the training grounds, frowning now and then as she unusually stumbled with her match. She'd agreed to help a recruit with quick movement training. Even Feran was watching with mild interest. Of course, Cassandra was behind the elven Inquisitor, one eye firmly returning to his ass every few minutes to the point he could _time_ it. It made Bull chuckle.

The other Qunari looked fierce suddenly, and Bull jerked up, noticing as Hawke randomly dropped. She held a hand out to the recruit, apologizing for not being in her usual shape that morning. Puzzled, Bull then watched the face of the ex-Arishok, and that told him all he needed. There was absolute concern warring with mild frustration in the very slight frown he wore as his eyes searched Hawke's body knowingly. The rest of his face remained impassive. Though Bull hadn't seen her dressed without her armor, he could very well guess underneath it were bruises and bites, claw marks and heavy soreness.

Quietly he watched over the Arishok, himself unable to call the regal male anything but that title.  
  
He'd heard the new Arishok was a great man. A hornless one even.  
  
But this male still looked so damn impressive, held so much command of himself and had had such a respect and understanding for the Qun that it awed Bull—they hadn't broken the Qunari. The Mad Ox had perhaps even scared the Triumvirate itself. Even to the point of death, the avatar of the body of the Qun _would not_ break. That was why it was such a fucking waste: The Arishok had been perfect, so strong. So _Qun_. And now he was nothing of it, just a massive Qunari standing as a king watching a match. He'd put his armor back on that morning, roaming after Hawke with careful eyes, and Bull had caught the Arishok watching several servants with enough ferocity that they looked terrified of him and moved even faster. The contract threats must really have spooked him, but to be fair, there _was_ reason to worry. Having one weakness—and that weakness being a female, capable but human and so seen as fragile nonetheless—would do that, Bull supposed, just as he kept his own silent worry over his company being harmed for his choice.

Hawke finished the exercise, smiling for the recruit. The moment the recruit left, fresh-faced and proud of herself, Hawke turned and gripped a small, simple post of the ring. Bull watched the Arishok instantly stride over to her. The Qunari said nothing, but a hand pressed to her lower back intimately in a claiming move. Bull almost smiled. It was...a strangely beautiful thing to see from someone so stoic.

“I'm fine, love. Just sore,” Hawke whispered, catching Bull's attention and confirming what he'd thought.

He smirked. Qunari sex _was_ rough for _bas_. And there was no way a Qunari as big as himself or the Arishok could be completely gentle. Or even would be intentionally. Well, Bull at least had safewords for his lovers. Bull caught Feran's frown and moved to intercept the elf before he could bother Hawke. He leaned his face down slightly, back to the Arishok and woman. “Let it go, Boss.”

“If she needs medical attention,” Feran began as quietly with that deep voice.

“Nothing more than salves she's already applied. I can smell them. She'll be fine. She's... _sore_.”

“She was fine yesterday.”

Bull snorted. “C'mon, Boss, you ain't that dense.”

“You mean.... _Oh_.” Feran raised his arched brows, then smiled at the pair leaving the ring.

“What are you two gossiping about? I swear, you are worse than Orlesian courtesans,” Cassandra scoffed, but her brown eyes warmed at the elf smirking at her.

Bull shook his head. “Nothing.”

Hawke came near, sighing. “Inquisitor. Apologies, I was not quite in the right shape this morning for the training.”

The elf kept a perfectly straight and polite face, showing off all that training Bull and he had tried to do to help him with his position; the sight made Bull proud.  
  
_That_ training had been hilarious to attempt for a while: Bull would spin a scenario and put the elf's control of his reaction to the test—one of those scenarios being finding the Seeker tied to his bed with a bow over her chest. The elf had passed it...but barely, while Bull had grinned ruthlessly. Feran now bowed his head. “Not a problem. We can discuss plans for Crestwood as soon as you've lunched. There will be food in the main hall shortly.”

As a group they moved to walk toward the stairs, Cassandra and Hawke talking quietly. Bull's ear twitched at a hiss, a very unmistakable hiss, and he immediately shoved Feran behind him.  
  
Turned out he needn't have bothered.  
  
The Arishok had spun just as Bull had, with the same purpose for his _kadan_ , sneering as the arrow sank into his thick upper arm and shoulder between the armor and missed Hawke's throat. Immediately the Inquisitor barked orders, but in the massive scuffle of panic that had erupted, it would be useless to catch the assassin by trying to organize a terrified crowd. Better to watch the people moving instead. The Arishok hadn't moved, his dark eyes traveling the movements just as Bull's were while Hawke worried behind the massive male.

The former warlord caught the scent before Bull did. A huge roar erupted from him, the large war ax unsheathing as he charged forward with it hanging in his grip. He'd dual-wielded massive weapons in the past, and it had been a sight to see, that Bull had been told many times. Bull's eyes lifted once, and he saw the human trying to blend in among the crowd in panic, a slight bump under his cloak. That was it. “There!” Bull pointed for Feran to see.

It didn't matter. People scattered as the Arishok broke through them, absolutely terrifying, his roar like a great bear's in ferocity. Bull surmised it must have been what it was like to see him in battle, leading into war, and yet again felt tremendous respect. The Qunari slammed his huge brow into the human before the assassin could move, knocking the man back several steps and cracking his skull down his forehead. Blood gushed from it, and Bull was surprised the blow hadn't outright popped the skull apart; such things were known to happen. Then the Arishok flung the war ax with another roar, and it slammed into the assassin as if singularly guided by the sound. A scream tore from the man as he became part of the hold's wall, almost embedded in it with the metal of the ax.

Bull ran over, Inquisitor and Cullen with some soldiers on his heels. Hawke charged ahead of them, darting around people like a fish, adrenaline overcoming her serious soreness. Bull watched as the Arishok leaned close to the struggling human; but anyone under the Qun knew to accept the death on honorable terms, and so the human male impressively stared at the Arishok right back with blood in one eye. The arrow still stuck out of the Arishok's arm, blood trailing down from it without notice to the big male.

“Speak, assassin,” the Arishok demanded, hand grabbing the ax handle and lightly twisting it so the blade ground through his ribs and side harder.

The human managed to almost bite through his lip to avoid crying out and give the Arishok the satisfaction. His blue eyes traveled up as Hawke slid to a stop, respecting the severe warning growl of her mate. “The human whore must pay for her treachery. Her blood magic controls you.”

“You think me so weak to be magicked, fool?” the Arishok bellowed, his voice echoing around the entire keep that had gone silent. Bull looked once to Feran, who couldn't help but stand impressed. Though Skyhold was undeniably Feran's domain, the Arishok easily took control for a moment, his magnificence overriding people's fears.

The assassin panted, blood gushing from his mouth and chest through his clothing. “If...she didn't use magic...then you are even weaker. Maybe...maybe the contract should have been for you, _betrayer_.”

“Hey, you fucking waste of breath! How _dare_ you!” Hawke shouted and spread her arms. “How much have you ruined this day and yet failed your mission? These people who knew you, accepted you, now see your true face!”

“ _Parshaara!_ ”

Hawke instantly stilled as the Arishok silenced her with one word. Bull felt Feran shift, debating what to do. He leaned his face a little, whispering, “Your hold, your rights...but her life attempt, his wound, his mate. He has rights, too.”

The Inquisitor nodded and left Bull's side, approaching the Arishok in almost silent steps. The elf with the faded sky blue Dalish tattoos glared impressively, and Bull knew he recognized the human, a “refugee” from the Hinterlands, just as Bull had once he'd gotten close enough to see the man's face. The spy must have been waiting until other orders came when Hawke showed, then the Arishok himself. Such a sight would have spurred an attack as soon as possible before the opportunity was gone. “I will take him if you wish, Arishok. But if you desire his blood, you may have it. He has wronged many this day, but his arrow is in you.”

To his credit the Qunari looked over the face of the elf, considering. Bull knew it was hard when he didn't have his authority anymore, something that he wielded so well in the past that it had become instinct. “Take stock of your people. This one is mine.”

“Done. Cullen! You will begin investigations with Leliana. I am _not_ tolerating such madness within this hold!” the Inquisitor snapped, his anger almost as terrifying. “The rest of you, back to duties! We are one, and this man is _not_ with us!”

Instantly a herd of people snapped together, rushing in all directions to get back to their posts. Bull watched it, worried about what effect this was going to have on the men's trust with the Inquisitor. But who could blame him? A Qunari assassin had effectively slipped right into their midst. A human one, at that. If anything it was going to make the people suspicious of one another now, which meant an address by the Inquisitor was going to be necessary at some point. He had to show he still trusted his people to keep them level, and Bull wasn't sure his words just now would be enough. But Bull had faith it would be handled well; Josephine was a scary mess when she needed to be to fix things.

The Arishok took a step closer toward the human attached to the wall. Bull could see the assassin didn't have long. Minutes, maybe, before he bled out entirely. “How many?” the Arishok demanded harshly.

“Ten accepted at any time. The one successful returns to Par Vollen with proof and lives as a king.” The human spat. “I bet I could get a bonus from the right people for your traitorous head.”

Bull's eye widened as he saw his former leader smile. He'd never seen such a thing on the Arishok's face, and the smile was not one of enjoyment. It was horrific and promising, worse than a Fade demon appearing with his sharp teeth—something Bull never had considering his spy role. “Exile. I am not allowed death. To take my head is to give me honor, _dathrasi_ , and would result in your own's loss. You do not know the Qun you joined. It will betray you faster than you can imagine, human.”

Suddenly the human blanched, even paler with the blood loss.

“They will know you attempted publicly—very unwise, _viddathari_. You will be hunted, a failure, one who bared their position hiding in this Inquisition. They will find you nailed to a post, kept alive enough for their own arrest of you.” The Arishok laughed, the sound nightmarish, as he raised his wrists. Bull looked away at the sight of the thick scarring there. “I _survived_ their touch, scaring them into exiling me. You will not, pathetic convert.”

Bull's brows rose as the Arishok turned and crooked a finger at him, an unmistakable summons that even Bull being Tal-Vashoth now felt he couldn't disobey. He came forward, not looking at the suffering human. “Yes?”

“Get a healer. Nail him to a post and take it down the valley. One you trust to keep watch until they come. You will write a note and seal it to his face, my blood on it. If they want us, I shall be the _katari_ they desire. Deaths will come.”

“Done,” Bull instantly said and stepped away, brain going fast as he tried to plan. Despite it all, the Arishok had _not_ lost his touch and somehow...that was comforting.

 


	6. Of Surgeons and War Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You're a fool,” Hawke chastised him under her breath. “No more arrows for me. No more cuts, no more scars.”  
> “There will always be more,” he countered softly, their eyes locking closely together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

She flitted about. She always did.  
  
The woman could barely stand still when she was concerned about anything, which was often. When they used to speak, particularly if she was bringing him what she considered to be terrible news, she'd shift her weight between her feet. Now she paced in the infirmary, low curses streaming from her that could have made his old unit blush like human females he'd seen around Skyhold. It made him want to go back over the memories of the night before, when she'd been naked beneath him, calling and begging, or when she'd been riding him like a queen.  
  
Much more preferable.

“ _Parshaara_ , Hawke. _Kost_ ,” he sniped at her, grunting as the surgeon cut into the area around the embedded arrow. It was barbed; he'd known so the moment he'd felt it tear into him differently. Ash had taken so many arrows and blades in the past that it was nothing. But he did know getting a barbed arrowhead out definitely wasn't anything weak—it caused twice the damage, because it tore as it went in, meant to stay, and ripped a bigger wound if it was pulled out. Clearly the assassin had hoped Ash would kill her by removing it from her if he tried.

His female stilled her pacing some, turning to glare at him. Ash fought the pride he felt from just looking at her. No matter what the Qun had said, no matter his own reservations, there had been nothing more honoring than this female tending to him, washing him, bedding him. She was _his_ and his alone. To think his weapons had once struck against her, thrown her and broken her, his own hand nearly snapping that delicate human neck...it made him hate himself.  
  
“Why did you block the damn thing?” she demanded, unable to vent her frustrations in any other way while her golden hair swished brightly behind her in its tie. “It's poisoned isn't it. That's why your arm is twitching. The fucking poison's gotten into your veins.”

This was also true. Hawke might be a fluttering human, but she was honorable and deadly observant—one reason they'd communicated so well; she'd easily read his slight facial expression changes without fail. At first that behavior had of course unnerved him, but then he'd grown...rather proud of her. Playful with it in testing her ability. It was rare for even his own men to have read him so well.

“Yes,” he said, knowing it was pointless to deny this to her. The assassin had most likely poisoned it to finish her in case she'd survived the initial attack. He'd gone numb quickly, but fought it and the weird slowness his heart had started to have. The poison, the amount used, had obviously been meant for her size and not his, and that was saving him.

She growled, the sound pleasant to him, and snapped to the surgeon. He'd rightly refused the Inquisition's _bas saarebas_ allies, not trusting of mages from his time in the Qun. To know such creatures walked freely here as allies was unnerving. No handlers. None to keep them controlled. Hawke caught his attention again as her dark eyes focused. “Have you given him antidote?”

“For what poison? I've never worked with Qunari poisons. I'm no healer, I'm a surgeon!” the woman snapped back, rushed as she shook her head. “The arrow's barbed. It will have to be dug out.”

Hawke almost glared through him; she could tell he'd known then, though his face betrayed nothing. She tried to shake him, the little thing. Ash did his best not to smile at it, at that level of concern and anger. How strange to have someone care so much for you individually. How bizarre to care in return. “Then dig it out,” she commanded, eyes on him.

“I....” The surgeon winced. “I can try. His muscles are bigger than I'm used to working with; the Iron Bull tends to care for his own wounds so I've never messed with him.”

Ash scented the meaning of her words. The human woman was afraid he'd kill her in the pain. He grunted, rather annoyed at the assumed weakness. “Finish.”

“But, what if he...?”

“Maker's breath,” Hawke grumbled, moved between them, and grabbed the knife from the other woman.

Ash's eyes watched her, that intense focus on her face as she dug into him without hesitation. No doubt his _kadan_ had done so with her own companions back when she was trying to defend that pustule of a city. He didn't flinch, he didn't whine like a weaker being. He'd lost the Qun, but he'd been born Qunari, and so was strong to pain. He'd had far, far worse in his punishment. The only registering it showed was a narrowing of his eyes, easily misinterpreted as anger. Ash knew his woman could read him better than that, but her eyes were on his wound. Sharp teeth ground together as she stuck her little gloved fingers in and, with an apology under her breath, used the knife to begin wiggling the barbed metal back out. It took a few tries; despite his utter stupidity, the assassin had done one thing right with that shot.

Finally Hawke pulled back and held up the two-inch piece of bloody metal. He nodded and she tossed it into a container with venomous anger, then turned back to the surgeon who looked positively stunned. “Stitch him. I'm getting someone who knows antidotes.”

Instantly the other human obeyed, grabbing her thickest needle and loudly praying it wouldn't snap when she tried to pierce the skin. A wet cloth wiped over him, cleaning the wound momentarily. Ash's dark eyes watched Hawke as she briefly regarded him, the gold in his eyes catching the brown in hers. “You...you....” Words failed her, she was that angry. How novel. “Why?”

“Do not be foolish,” he lowly spoke. There had been no way she was taking the arrow, not while he breathed. The surgeon cleaned the wound, wiping at the hole Hawke had had to create.

“They'll keep coming. And you're not safe from it either, not now.”

“No. But my death cannot happen by their hands, and the true Qun know this. Even if they'd wish for my head, many knew I wanted death. That grants me power, honor, in giving it to me.”

The surgeon graciously pretended not to hear their conversation as she threaded her needle. Hawke shook her head, crossing her arms. “Maker, you should have just snapped my neck.”

“Then come closer, and I will,” he snarled, impatient and tired of her guilt. He'd suffered in ways she could barely understand, but he was through letting her take such measures. How could she know the guilt he himself held now over that very moment, too? How utterly deep it went inside of him, flaring up last night as he'd seen her bruised from simple mating? “ _Vashedan_ , Hawke!”

Ash wasn't surprised when she obeyed, though the human between them readily paled and paused, watching him with fear. Hawke kept glaring at him, but his nose could read the truth—she was scared, but not of him. Scared her involvement, her presence had already corrupted so much, taken so much. And so she was furious, yes, but at herself. Maybe him for letting it happen, for not stopping his exile.

Then her chin quivered. Just a little, enough for his eyes to catch. A crack in the resolve. And somehow that tiny little detail quieted his temper. Ash reached out with his left, uninjured arm and grabbed the back of her throat, yanking her closer. The surgeon gasped and jerked backward, ready to scream for help, but paused the moment she saw him press his brow to his female's, rubbing gently.

“You're a fool,” Hawke chastised him under her breath. “No more arrows for me. No more cuts, no more scars.”

“There will always be more,” he countered softly, their eyes locking closely together.

Her human eyes wet a little, and she blinked them furiously, refusing to show the weakness. Good. “You're so infuriating,” she finally whispered, but a smirk graced her lovely lips.

“No. You are irrational,” he baited her, face impassive, but grinning on the inside. Ash blinked once before the word came from him like a sigh. “ _Kadan_.”

Hawke stared at him for a second more, grunted and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth before storming outside, calling for the Bull Qunari nearby. Ash watched her go, eyes narrowing at her being alone, but a tiny lift of his mouth happened all the same.

“Um. Can I...?” the surgeon asked, standing near.

Ash looked up at her, then back to his wound, noticing the needle still sticking in his arm. He nodded and leaned back, giving her space to work, enjoying the curses of the human as she fought his tough skin to seal the hole. A minute or two later, his female reentered with the other Qunari. The Iron Bull carried a small leather bag, the clanking of vials catching his hearing. Hawke watched the Inquisitor's ally pick up the arrowhead from the container she'd thrown it in; he sniffed it, checking for the poison, and dropped the metal with a clang while he searched through the pouch. Ash watched the other male as he slid out a thin vial, its contents a reddish brown.

Already his entire right arm was numb. It wouldn't be much longer before it took more. Bull seemed to debate a second, then withdrew a much bigger needle and attached it to a separate syringe piece. Hawke softened her stance near Ash as they both watched the other Qunari fill the vial of the syringe and, the moment the surgeon moved out of the way, seamlessly pricked through the thick skin of Ash's inner arm and injected the antidote. He didn't stop the slight hiss in time as the antidote worked, what felt like fire burning as it combated the numbness and re-awoke his nerves. His heart sped up as a result, far out running the sluggish beat it had briefly acquired.

Hawke's eyes never left him in her concentration. Finally, after a few moments, Ash took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. The burning had quieted down to embers, rather than flames. With a glance down his wounded arm, he flexed his fingers, feeling it all the way through—even tapped his knuckles to the chair. Then, appreciatively, he nodded toward the Iron Bull.

“Excellent,” the other male said, putting away everything but the syringe so he could clean it.

“How bad had it spread?”

Ash shrugged. “Entire right arm was numb. Heart slowed.”

“You bastard! You didn't say it was so fast,” Hawke scowled at him, seeming ready to lunge. For his part, the Iron Bull looked mildly astonished she'd readily said such a thing to his old Arishok's face—and of course, wasn't dead for it.

Ash merely snickered at her. “ _Tasshath_ , _kadan_.”

“Ugh. No, you arsehole, I'm not calming. You are strong, not invulnerable! You could have _died_ before I got aid.”

The curse only made his eyes laugh more and incense her, his left hand coming up to sweep in ceremonious gesture before him. “I live, Hawke, for you to berate.”

“You're damn right you do,” she tossed back at him, but a smile lifted her lips.

“Here, I'll let her finish. Needle break yet?” Bull asked the surgeon, who sighed.

“Not yet. Almost twice so far, though.”

Bull chuckled, dug out a larger needle, and handed it to her. “Try this. It's got a tiny threading hole near the top. It'll be fine to use.”

The three ignored the human as she re-threaded and cleaned the needle until she was satisfied. Bull whistled at the hole in his arm. “Barbed, huh. Always a nice surprise.”

Ash grunted in acknowledgment, glad the other knew the sentiment. To his surprise the Qunari reached into one of his large pants pockets and withdrew a small flask. “Here. _Maraas-lok_. I keep it for...special occasions.”

Hawke briefly narrowed her eyes, suspicious, and Ash wasn't angry about it. Proud of her, yet again. She would need to stay aware from now on, always watching. Still, he took the flask, sniffed it twice for impurities and almost growled as he took a swig and felt the familiar burning, caught that home taste. He took a second drink and handed the flask back, dipping his head in thanks. The Bull nodded in return and, after taking his own drink, glanced to Hawke. “Wanna try? Might set you on fire, though.”

“I've had all kinds of whiskey, Iron Bull,” she retorted, crossing her arms.

“Swill piss from that city does not count,” Ash said, rumbling under his breath as she sneered at him.

Hawke held out her hand for the flask, eyes briefly flicking to his and then the surgeon as she finished suturing the wound. Ash watched her hesitate as she sniffed the very strong alcohol meant for full-grown, full-blooded Qunari. He smirked, visibly, an obvious taunt. Hawke raised her brows, stuck her tongue out at him, and took a full swig, not a dainty sip. Instantly she coughed and struggled to stay up right, eyes growing very wet as she shakily handed the Bull his flask. Ash broke out laughing, the sound richer than he remembered it being. Had it been so long since he'd laughed? Even the Iron Bull seemed a bit in awe of it.

She managed to get past the swallow, her brow breaking into a sweat as she stared at him victoriously. Ash watched her take a few open-mouthed breaths, ignore his laugh, and shake her head.

“You good, Hawke?” Bull asked her, actual concern in his tone.

Ash watched her cough again. When she managed to speak, her voice was very soft, almost a whisper. “Perfect, thanks.”

“She is not weak.” Ash took her outstretched hand, eyes warm as he shifted in the chair, resting almost as he used to upon his dais in the old compound. “She is brave.”

“Always,” she all but croaked, earning yet another laugh from him.

The Iron Bull chuckled and clapped her shoulder briefly. His one eye met Ash's, a look of clear “please don't mistake that for anything but camaraderie” on his face. Ash nodded, unconcerned, and the Bull smiled. “Boss wants to talk to you both as soon as you're good.”

“Then we go.” Ash immediately moved to stand, but the surgeon shrieked and grabbed his arm, healing salve on one hand and a bandage half-wrapped on him in the other.

Hawke bent over laughing, smiling at him. “We'll be there in a minute, _after_ the lady has finished.”

“Mm,” Ash managed to grunt and sat back down, ignoring the grumbling of the human wrapping his arm.

 

[-------------------------------]

 

Twenty minutes later they stood in what was called the War Room. War Room. Ash sniffed. It was a tiny area with papers and maps. A planning room, certainly, and he'd made do with even tighter quarters when necessary, but to deem it a War Room seemed...pretentiously human. His eyes trailed over the Inquisitor and his advisers as he watched them interact with Hawke. He'd kept close to the door, back against the wall.

“My contact will be here, in this cave,” Hawke stated, finger pointing at a spot on a map in front of her. “That's where I'm meeting him. I can meet you a little further out, and we can go in together. I know you'll have some business to tend to within the area. That's fine. But the sooner the better.”

The elven Inquisitor tilted his face as he thought. Now that was a figure Ash was interested in. These others, these humans and odd allies he'd seen glimpses of were nothing different than any in his encounters; only Hawke had stood out among humans to him. But this elf was something. He was tall for his race, of deep voice and proud features. He commanded instinctively, not unlike Ash himself. The respect the elf had shown him just within the last two days was surprising, and for that he would give respect in turn. He remembered one of the other humans, that Seeker female Hawke debated over and her dwarf friend loved and hated, rarely let her eyes stray from the elf. The affection was obvious and strange. Not that he had room to call such things strange anymore.

“We've already made some progress in the Crestwood area, but there is a rift here,” the elf spoke, finger crossing the map, too. “Out over the lake. We've been arguing with the mayor, but now I've got a way to drain the lake and get to it. I seal that, the undead stop. That has to be done before anything else. I have some mages in my personal party to help if the mark gives me issue. It is said to be a large rift.”

“Noted,” Hawke said, agreeing to the priority. Ash wasn't comfortable knowing she had so much magic in her bloodline, but he took comfort in how despite that, and despite her trust for certain _bas_ _saarebas_ she knew, Hawke was always very watchful of it. The blood magic of Kirkwall had opened her eyes. And, well, if she did bear him _imekari_ , they'd have his strong blood to fight it. She'd mentioned a possibility in future last night, and such a thought caught his breath yet again while Hawke asked, “Any resistance?”

“Bandits, here,” the red-headed female said, pointing. Her accent was partly Orlesian that Ash could tell. “They've taken over a keep that has a way to the dam. We'll have to reclaim it, but that's not a problem.”

“Easy enough, I suppose,” the blond male, that _bas_ who had recognized him at the gates spoke up. Ferelden, absolutely.

Ash snorted, remembering how easy it had been to take Kirkwall. He'd often wondered what would have happened had he simply completed that effort—but that was also one reason he'd spared Hawke. Ash knew if he'd taken the city, he'd have had to live with killing her. Part of him could certainly have done so, but despite the honor given to her in the fight itself, it would have meant living with tormented, fragmented memories he'd resent just to spurn them from ever bothering him—and that was also a disservice to her and all they'd accomplished together within Kirkwall before the return of the Tome of Koslun. He also knew Hawke would have defended the trashed city no matter what, taking responsibility for those who didn't deserve her dedication. His fingers twitched, remembering the feel of that thin neck and his weapons clashing against large white columns as she darted away, her daggers flashing here and there until one rested against his heart between his armor...pushing, like his fingers on her throat, but...hindering in its final twist. She'd given him control and acceptance in her love. What she hadn't known in that moment was that he'd considered it honorable if she hadn't—a death by her skill, in fair combat, would have been better than the torture and exile. Nonetheless...here they were. Perhaps it had all been for the best.

Hawke brought him back to the present as she hummed, scanning the map a bit, squinting. Thinking. “All right. Word of caution. My contact says the Wardens aren't themselves. You see any about, asking for him or any by name, you don't give them up. Something is...wrong. Very wrong.”

“Agreed. They've disappeared. Our own Warden has concerned suspicions as well,” the red-head confirmed with a tight nod.

“Of course,” the elf acquiesced. “We will protect this contact.”

“My thanks.”

“Did you enjoy the basket?” the darker skinned _bas_ asked Hawke, a smile on her face. Her accent was clearly Antivan, easy for him to recognize.

Hawke looked over her shoulder at him, smirking a little. He remained a stone wall, but his eyes lit up just enough to satisfy her. “Yes, thank you. Lovely to have such little things. Ash found the scrub a bit too floral in scent for his tastes, but that's no problem.”

“Oh, dear, I should have thought. We don't have much variety,” the Antivan human muttered, eyes apologizing to him. “I even sent the masculine one, the most popular in Orlais.”

He grunted and shifted his shoulders, ignoring the small stinging of his wrapped arm. It had the elfroot salve for healing under the bandage and some other poultice to prevent infection, and the smells struck his nose strongly, thankfully covering the flowery bath scrub. “Orlesian males smell like females.”

The elf cackled a bit, but most surprising was the blond-haired Cullen actually smiling at _him_. Just a little. “Well, he's not wrong,” Cullen softly said, tilting his head in a slight nod. “Orlesians are...their own breed.”

The redhead rolled her eyes with a smirk. “Because we prefer not to smell of wet dog.”

“At any rate, we'll get you ready. Gear, food, mounts, packs.” The Inquisitor quickly grew serious as Hawke looked mildly surprised at the generous offer. “I'm not sending allies into a place with nothing. See that it's done, Cullen, and that none give them trouble.”

“Of course, Inquisitor.”

Hawke smiled and bowed a little. “Thank you, Inquisitor. You too, Cullen. It's...appreciated. But we only need anything to lie low enough. Nothing heavy.”

“Then choose what you want. But the passage through will require some mountain nights, and it will be cold. So take furs. We've plenty, considering we clothe the soldiers for the weather,” the Inquisitor said, waving a hand elegantly. Something to be said for a leader who took care of his men down to the detail. Ash tilted his large head in mild respect, catching the elf's eye. “I've been informed the assassin is staked on a side path below the keep, one of Bull's own men watching him with a mage to keep him healthy enough. Do you believe it will be long?”

“No. Nightfall, if that.” Ash glanced around as the advisers frowned, disturbed. “If you believe he was the only Qunari spy in your walls, you have lessons to learn.”

“Shit,” Cullen grumbled and put his fist on the table. “I'm working on it. Leliana, you got any news on that front?”

The redhead tore her gaze away from Ash's, and he saw the confirmation already there. “Apprehended two this afternoon, caught following Bull's men with the assassin—an elf and a human, both. They were found with daggers and orders...I won't say where they hid the papers.”

“Disgusting,” the Antivan shook her head, wrinkling her nose.

For his part the Inquisitor merely sighed, eyes back to Ash. “I appreciate the advice. This job requires me to be gone more often than not, sealing rifts and dealing with people. It is hard to be in so many places at once.”

“That is why you know your men, as many as possible,” Ash said, arms uncrossing some. Hawke glanced to him, interested. “You know their strengths, their weaknesses. Most important—their routines. Any diversions are signs. And you remind them all that you are most powerful and that without you they will fall; you are both protector and governor, elf, but also _empowering_.”

“How many did you command at once?” Cullen asked, curious.

Ash raised a large brow, lifting his head so his horns tapped the wall behind him. “I was the army of the Qun, _bas_.”

“You couldn't have known all of them,” Cullen countered. “So how'd you handle it?”

“I knew those who moved around me—their titles, their assignments, their routines. One or two personal servants easily became extended eyes and ears, if needed, but often it wasn't. I was Arishok. No one questioned. All obeyed. It is the way of the Qun. Loyalty was without question. To die if your role demanded it was accepted.”

“Spying on your own?” the redhead asked. “Of course.”

“All good points, but....” The elf sighed to himself. “I'd rather be able to trust them. Most are good, simply wanting to help. Terrified of Corypheus or directly damaged by the magister already.”

“Opportunity, elf. Your organization _breeds_ it without order like the Qun gives. This is unavoidable,” Ash gestured with his good arm and clapped his hand back over his elbow. “Too much hate between your humans to trust themselves, let alone others.”

The Antivan raised her brows. “So you kept them from corrupting how?”

Hawke raised her hand before he could even reply. “The Qun. Don't get him started.”

“You cannot refute the order you saw, Hawke,” Ash grunted. “You respected it.”

“Yes, I did. But I respected how you handled it, handled them. You truly embraced it, believed in it, philosophized. They believed in you, followed without question. You didn't use it for cover to control and harm. You were strong and fair, though clever and able to tweak situations to your benefit many times,” Hawke explained, a soft smile on him before glancing to the others. Ash lowly snickered at her observations as she added, “ _Almost_ convinced me to convert once.”

“I'm sure Kirkwall would have gone differently for it,” Cullen commented, brows a bit high as he took in the information. He glanced to Ash. “You really left the Qun?”

Hawke locked her jaw. “Where do you think those scars are from?”

“Maker. Apologies,” Cullen said, bowing his head a little. The man looked slightly puzzled after doing so. “Who'd have thought I'd sympathize with the Qunari who almost razed my last home?”

“Your city was razed by its own doing. It needed no help.”

“Maker, Ash. I adore you, but no more politics,” Hawke teased, stood upright from the table and winced, a hand coming to her side.

“Ash?” The Inquisitor asked politely.

Hawke fought the soreness she undoubtedly felt, and Ash felt mixed feelings over it; there was sympathy because she _had_ gone a bit beyond her capability with him, pride that she pushed through it, wanted more anyway, and concern for any actual injuries. It could have been worse. Once when he was bred, the female went crazed in her heat and tore into him, requiring a healer to fix the huge gash in his neck. “His new name,” Hawke explained with a tight smile. “I rather like it.”

“Then it is good to meet you, Ash, in these extremely different circumstances,” Cullen offered, a peaceful gesture.

Ash just bowed his head in a slight nod. Hawke thanked the group again for their aid. “We will leave at dawn, if that is all right.”

“Of course,” the Antivan smiled at her genuinely. “You should both rest before risking travel.”

Ash himself would much prefer them already being alone, gone from this place with its hidden danger, but he couldn't disagree with the human's words. “We will prepare now, leave then,” he agreed and with a sweep of his head and horns, opened the door behind him. “Hawke.”

His female smiled at the group, bowing her head in thanks again. Cullen came around the table, eyed her for a second, and hugged her briefly. “Despite it all, I'm glad to have seen you, Camilla. No one here blames you for Corypheus. If you never blamed me for Meredith, you cannot blame yourself for this. All right?”

“I...thank you, Cullen,” Hawke whispered softly, hugged him back and let go.

Ash watched the scene with narrowed eyes, angry that another male dared touch his female so intimately. The dwarf was no concern as he'd come to understand recently; a half-creature with an almost puppy attachment to her was not a threat. Even the Bull, having gotten used to human affections, had touched her shoulder in reassurance and then immediately realized his error and signaled his apology to Ash. But not the Ferelden _bas_ with his open touch. So this incident was...pushing his patience a little. He kept his temper in check, grateful when Hawke turned to him before she waved toward the group—in her eyes was the realization of his clear annoyance. She'd meant no trespass, that he knew, and thus his anger lied not with her. Perhaps this was why the Qun barred such relationships; they bred danger in jealousy and possessiveness.

They exited the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving them in the small corridor with the semi-broken wall from a past siege. Hawke took his hand instantly. “I apologize, I had not considered he would give such friendly affection.”

“He is not the dwarf,” Ash growled, hating the burning in him.

“No, he's not. But trust me that it was strictly friendly. Cullen's too married to his positions to have ever looked beyond them.”

“You speak from experience?” he almost hissed at her, eyes narrowing somehow tighter.

Hawke shook her head. “No. But a friend in Kirkwall once fancied him. I tried to help her, to no avail. Cullen and I butted heads more in Kirkwall than you and I did, to be perfectly honest. He was too blinded by Meredith and trying to control the dissolving city to see truth until it was too late. But he has good heart and wish to serve only good, so seeing him here is also a blessing. They'll need his experience.”

Relief hit him so hard that he blinked from it. And hated it. Weakness. He was dominate, he was the male—her male—and so no weak _bas_ should shake him. Ash pushed her against the wall near the other door, fingers cradling her neck. He wondered what compelled him to continue doing so, uncertain as he was, but Hawke never flinched when he touched her there. Just looked up at him. Trusting. Ash searched that trust for several seconds before he brushed his brow to hers in gratitude of it. “ _Kadan_. You could have been taken from me this day.”

“Me? Never.”

“Do not be foolish, Hawke.”

“I'm not. But it's gonna take more than a cheap shot. I've had horrific things done to me, and I've killed until I could breathe safely,” she explained, rubbing against his crown, her fingers sliding over his horns a little. It always felt good, that tiny touch. “Come. Let's get you outfitted properly. _Dual_ weapons.”

Ash let himself smile at her thoughtfulness, and her entire face brightened. She seemed to enjoy when he smiled at her.

“Know something?”

“Hm?” he asked as he took her hand and walked through the Antivan's office, back toward the main hall.

“Seeing you fight today was good. Despite having mixed memories of it, you show your power so well, your skill. It's fitting. Gorgeous.”

“You...enjoy my fighting,” he surmised, not surprised. Matches in Par Vollen often enticed breeding females as males put on displays of strength.

Hawke laughed as they kept moving. “Yes, Ash. I do.”

“As I enjoy yours. When...not sore, you are quick. A shadow. A dagger in the side,” he complimented, proud of her. Ash well remembered how she'd fought him, thankful even then for her skill. It had kept her alive long enough for his decision. He'd not held back until that moment, left her with cuts and bruises, at least one fractured bone he knew of, and a few deep wounds instead of all of that, removed limbs and a snapped neck. Not that she hadn't gotten in some serious bites with her daggers; one in his lower side still made his eye twitch if he thought of it. Despite both not holding back until the end, neither could...finish it.

Hawke flicked her brown eyes up at him, winking, and jerked him out of his thoughts. “Perhaps I can find a way to...bring that to our bed.”

Ash actually stopped moving, just trying to imagine such a thing and fighting the arousal it instantly caused. “ _Vashedan_ ,” he grumbled, enjoying her laugh as they emerged into the sunlight.

 


	7. Of Cards and Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cards heal everything but sex soreness, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

A few hours later the items were being carefully packed for them by a few Inquisition people more than happy to help. It seemed, Hawke believed, that the people of the hold were so disgusted by the attempt on her life there, so in awe that a Qunari had taken the killing wound and lived through it for her, that they wanted to make up for the event. Show they could be trusted. Even the blacksmith was taking out rare stock in the Inquisitor's own Underforge where he liked to tinker; broadswords, axes, daggers, everything coming out for them to see.

Ash had quickly taken to a particular split sword, and she knew why—it looked so much like his previous one, but was more silver with a hint of red in its metal. Stronger, better made. He'd said nothing, just stood back, but Hawke had seen the want in his eyes and pointed toward it. The blacksmith had waved Ash over, watched as the Qunari lifted the blade with a single hand, swinging it in a way a human couldn't do without both hands. Hawke smiled at him near the weapon racks. He was happy, whether he was showing it or not. And she loved that.

They took the sword, sharpened his ax, and picked up a polishing kit for the metal and leathers. Both seemed already satisfied with any armor concerns, so they moved on quickly, taking a bag of dried meats, cheeses, breads and wineskins given freely from the kitchen. Word was that the two were leaving for an important mission, a personal one working with the Inquisitor himself, and so they weren't about to let down a leader who had already been given cause to doubt after the human Qunari's attempt.

A soldier of Cullen's happily led them to a stall with furs, telling them the Inquisitor had instructed a tab that he would pay himself. Hawke shook her head, unable to take so much, and paid for a thick bear cloak for herself. A flash of silvery blackness caught her attention, and she motioned for the trader to bring out the material. It was a cloak, made from great bear fur, huge and immaculately cut and lined. “Try this on,” Hawke instructed and handed it, folded, to Ash next to her.

He glanced at her, a brow raised, but unrolled the cloak and whisked it around him, airing it out before settling it over his large shoulders. It fit him, almost perfectly. Absolutely satisfied, Hawke forked over the sovereigns, catching his frown as he slid the fur off and she folded it again for packing. The trader was ecstatic at that point, having gotten so much, that she offered them some gifts, happily surprising Hawke. In the Orlesian's hands were bands of gold, rings and accessory pieces. But as Hawke took them, her eyes jumped right up to his non-embellished horns.

Which was why Varric found them smelting gold near the normal armory by the tavern. When he'd realized what her intention was, Ash had at first protested in his way. He said things like no, Hawke that is a marking for the Qun, no, and _vashedan_ , woman, fine! among several large glares aimed at her. Glad she'd gotten her way, she watched as one of the armorers stretched the metal, briefly used a string to remeasure Ash's left large horn, and double checked his work. He nodded curtly and handed Hawke the first gold band, the one that she'd drawn her family symbol on and showed the Qunari, getting an amused grunt in return.

Varric came into the hot rooms as Ash sat down in one of the human chairs, looking far too large to be in it and still too tall to get a good vantage point for his friend's purpose. Hawke was standing over him somewhat, knees precariously balanced on Ash's extremely muscled thighs, sliding the band until it was about where she remembered it being, then used one of the armorer's tools to cinch it tight. “Hawke, what's that?”

“I'm fixing something,” she mumbled, tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth as she carefully slid another gold band on his opposite horn and eyed the leveling between them.

Ash snorted at Varric below her. “She misses the distinctions.”

“Well, she always did have an eye for shiny things,” Varric agreed, smiling wide as Hawke leaned further to tighten the metal band and pressed her breasts right into the Qunari's brow and eyes without thought. For his part the big former Arishok remained still for her to finish, but Varric caught the twitch of his claws against the wooden chair. Poor man, she really _was_ testing some patience.

When Hawke leaned back, wavering a little in her balance until clawed hands secured her, she grinned. “There. Much better. You look like you, and you even have my hawk on one of them. Now if I can get some earrings.”

“No. Those were for victories.”

“Aw, but.”

“No.”

“All right, fine. We kill this darkspawn, you're getting an earring,” Hawke conceded and kissed that large, straight nose. Varric watched the Qunari look like he was glaring at her, but as Hawke moved away the dwarf slowly realized that he was actually smirking, his eyes slanted and warmer with a light lift of his lip. Wow. It really was such a subtle thing. He wondered how many of those looks he'd missed back in Kirkwall, how many Hawke had obviously caught onto and learned. No wonder they'd gotten so close—she could read the Qunari like pages from a book.

Varric grinned and thumbed his pockets. “So, wanna drink before you rest up? On me, Hawke.”

“Maybe. Still have to pick mounts, and double check everything. I know that Iron Bull was going to leave some tent supplies for us...some more poultices and antidotes, too. Maker, how will we carry it all?”

“We don't. Take what is necessary,” Ash argued as he stood impressively before them. Varric caught Hawke's eyes dance up to the reflective gold on the two big horns, and even the dwarf had to admit the Qunari did seem more “right” because of them.

Hawke crossed her arms, a brow quirking. “Oh? And of the storms?”

“Weaklings die in storms,” came the answer Varric had expected.

“Yes, well, I do not have your skin or immune system, love. Unless you'd care to share it by some miracle.”

The Qunari grunted in frustration and turned away, ending the conversation. Varric felt a bit worried by it, but Hawke was smiling again. Like she knew or understood something. Good, Varric thought. He sure as hell didn't speak “former Arishok.” “So. A pint?”

“A pint. C'mon, _kadan_. One to warm your belly,” Hawke offered and slid her fingers into the large gray hand, her human ones almost disappearing in that flesh.

Varric smiled, happy for her as they exited and moved for the tavern, hearing the Qunari lowly saying to her, “You are heat enough.”

Bull waved them over to a large table he often occupied behind the fireplace and stairs. They all sat down, Bull ordering drinks. He pulled some other bottle out from under the table, something with Qunlat on the label and slid it to Ash. Hawke accepted her pint and tried to scoot her chair closer to Ash's, nose twitching as she sniffed out the Qunari liquor. Varric chuckled immediately; the huge Qunari had rolled his eyes, lifted her up with his left arm and deposited Hawke and her pint on his lap while he took a swig from the bottle in his right hand. Hawke “oofed” a little at the unceremonious transfer, drinking from her cup, eyes still on the bottle as her cheeks reddened. Varric shook his head, just imagining the same event on that old dais in the compound.

“It's a wine from Par Vollen. Good stuff. Very strong, though,” Bull explained to her. Varric caught the Qunari chuckle a second later. “Won't burn you as bad as that Seheron whiskey did. I swear, Varric, Hawke got tanned on the inside. Like dragon fire.”

“It was...strong,” Hawke admitted, not letting her ego slide at all. “But so am I!”

Varric grinned again, so damn happy to be with her like this and wishing they were back in the Hanged Man. “Maker, Hawke. Seheron whiskey. What's next, Tevinter brandy?”

“If you've got any.”

“Smart arse,” Varric drawled, chuckling.

Ash sat the bottle down on the table and took a deep breath, obviously appreciating the drink. Hawke eyed it again, sat her half-empty pint on the table and grabbed for the bottle. Varric saw the Qunari smile a little as she took it, sniffed, and drank a sip. Hawke's brown eyes popped open pleasantly. “Mm!”

“Good?” Varric asked, brows up.

“Mm. Mm, this is... _delicious_ ,” Hawke grunted and slid the bottle back to Bull with thanks. “I'll finish it if you don't take it back.”

The Iron Bull just laughed and took his own drink. Varric was about to speak, crack a joke he'd thought up concerning Hawke's future giant babies, when Cole literally poofed into existence on the table. Ash was instantly on his feet, Hawke almost cradled to his chest in defense as he bared his teeth. Varric didn't blame the Qunari; the spirit kid _was_ kinda freaky when he did that. “Hey, Cole,” Varric said, trying to indicate no danger possible.

Even Hawke looked shocked, though.

“He's uh...friendly. A friendly spirit,” Varric went on, gesturing his hands.

Cole tilted his face under that huge hat of his and watched Ash, no doubt listening to the strumming of the growls erupting. The entire tavern had gone silent at hearing it, then saw Cole and went back to their business, completely understanding of the Qunari's reaction, even if most of them barely remembered why the kid looked familiar.

“Why? A thousand times before, nothing different. They're all the same.” Cole squinted more, continuing as he sat forward, “Such thin, delicate bones. Just a twitch and they snap so beautifully. She knows, she sees, she accepts. She alone understands somehow. Why _can't_ I do it? What is this _pain_ in my chest? Damn her. She is _saar-qamek_ , tainting purpose. They will not forgive. I cannot forgive.”

Ash snarled low, hissing one word. “Demon!”

Varric almost panicked, realizing that Cole had unintentionally stirred into the Qunari's memories of strangling Hawke. He shoved his chair a little and touched Cole's arm. “Hey, Cole, back up a bit. Remember Feran's rule.”

“Rule? Yes. Space, personal space. Don't read without permission. Oh. I read, didn't I?” Cole eagerly turned back to the huge aggressive Qunari. Hawke had long since given up trying to understand and was simply staring up at the one holding her. Varric winced. Cole coughed a little. “I can make you forget. Make the hurt go away.”

“Kid, I don't think that's—”

“What is it talking about, Varric?” Hawke asked, eyes snapping to him. “What is this?”

“Cole's special. A spirit of compassion, drawn from the Fade into form. He just...wants to help people who hurt,” Varric muttered and patted Cole's arm as the spirit climbed off the table to sit by him. “He can make people forget things that pain them, usually by emotionally talking them through it, then erasing his presence. It...lets the person find peace and resolution without knowing a spirit was involved. He doesn't mean any harm. He's a good one.”

Hawke eyed Cole nervously, patting Ash's arm until he sat back down, though his chair was now at a further distance from the table and one arm was firmly, visibly wound around Hawke's middle. “You...read people's hurts and fix them?”

“Yes,” Cole smiled, happy to be understood. “Like yours. My fault, I never should have unlocked that beast. He didn't die? How? How many times did I stab him, cut his throat, _check_? So many gone. Nothing can be saved. My fault. That _traitor_ using me to start war! But...that face, _his_ face—oh his face, so strong, so severe yet beautiful. I missed it and those sharp words of his so much. His scars are mine. So many faults. Would my death fix them?”

Varric bit his lip as Hawke's eyes lowered to the table, his friend very quiet. Had Hawke been...suicidal? Maker, this wasn't good. He'd just wanted a good drink, maybe some cards with his best friend. Varric went to apologize, but shut his mouth as the Qunari holding her very gently knocked his brow to her head. “ _Parshaara_.”

“I know,” she whispered, eyes closing.

Varric looked to Bull for translation, catching his friend mouth the word “enough.” Instantly his respect level for Ash rose like a bubbling ale.

“No more, Hawke,” Ash said, switching out of the Qunlat and gripping her waist tighter. “This corrupts you.”

Varric noticed Bull watching intently, wondering if his friend was just as in awe of the gentle scolding Hawke was getting. But Hawke just nodded and leaned back into that huge armored chest, head resting under Ash's chin. Cole rocked in his chair. “Forget?”

“No. I can't,” Hawke quietly spoke, but she smiled at the spirit boy. “Thanks.”

“It's okay,” Cole smiled back and poofed again, disappearing entirely.

Hawke blinked rapidly and shook her head. “Maker, Varric, how have you dealt with that?”

“He grows on you,” Varric admitted as he ran a hand through his hair. Quickly he drew a pack of cards from his jacket. “One game of Wicked Grace for old times' sake.”

Brown eyes stirred then. “I'll wipe this table with you, little man.”

“You wish, sweetheart,” Varric teased, ducking playful swipe aimed at him as she lurched forward.

They played a fun game, the two of them with Bull joining in as well. Ash watched, a silent sentinel under Hawke, his strange Qunari eyes more often than not resting on her than the game as he observed before flicking around the room in a routine manner. Varric didn't blame the guy, not after that arrow. His arm was still bandaged, and Varric had heard from Bull about the barbed arrow and the small, well small for Qunari, chunk of flesh Ash had lost at its removal. Varric cursed as Hawke trumped his cards and took his silvers. Bull threw more coin on the table with a huff, vowing to win. By the time a half an hour had passed, they were much more mellow, the incident with Cole forgotten for a while.

“Hah! Varric, you think you're a clever one,” Hawke snickered as she looked over her cards at him while he debated what to throw down.

“Have to be. Who else can keep up with you and write all your tales?”

“Oh I know. My bestie,” Hawke teased, reaching over to hug him a little now that her living chair had come closer to the table for her to play.

Varric hugged her back and finished his second pint, smiling. “So Ash. I'm assuming your size is fairly genetic.”

Hawke's eyes bulged, knowing where he was going with it. The Qunari shrugged, eyeing him like he was a simpleton. “Yes.”

“Well, Hawke, it's a good thing your pain tolerance is high. Even mini-sized Ashes are gonna be a bit big for you,” Varric laughed, unable to hold back at the look on her face. “Do they come out with horns, or do those grow later?”

Ash frowned, and Varric tried not to look at it as a threat, not since he'd figured out the Qunari had an entire library of body language that stemmed from that one look. Hawke shifted over Ash's large thigh below her and played a card that beat Bull's hand. “He means _imekari_ ,” she said softly.

Varric looked right up to the former Arishok, catching a look of uncertainty, reflection, curiosity, and, finally, consideration, all aimed at the back of Hawke's head. But all of that should have had shock, and since it didn't, that meant they'd _talked_ about it before already. Varric raised his brows at Hawke, wanting to know. She just smiled. Well, he'd never denied her boldness.

“We grow horns. Well, not all of us. But those that do grow them start after birth,” Bull explained, grunted, and threw down a good card. “Hah! There.”

“Good thing, Bull, or your momma was a hell of a woman.”

Bull burst out laughing, rocking his chair back as he tossed his head, his long, squared horns almost smacking a lantern. They all chuckled a bit; a smile even lightly broke on Ash's face at that. But then the Qunari grew serious. “ _Bas_ -born Qunari are rare.”

“Why's that? Just the Qun regulations?” Varric asked, rather curious.

Bull sobered then, eyeing his former superior. “Nope. I mean, yeah, that's absolutely one reason, but not what he means. It's basically impossible for elves, but humans...sometimes. Dwarves being hardier keeps them...safer. Not just the conception that's hard, though.”

“Then?”

“It is too...difficult,” Ash finally said, dark golden eyes on Hawke's back. And Varric suddenly understood. He'd been teasing his friend about something that apparently was a legitimate cause of death. Sure, he figured it was gonna be a rough birthing but...death? Shit, he was not having good luck tonight in any sense.

“But not impossible,” Bull interjected on Hawke's behalf, getting a quick smile from her for it. “A good midwife can be the difference, same with certain teas and obvious diligence.”

Hawke nodded at that and folded her hand in defeat. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“ _Kadan_.”

“What?” she quietly asked and looked over her shoulder. Ash appeared in complete command of himself, yet somehow Varric instinctively felt the gray man was hugely uncomfortable. Worried. Suddenly Hawke leaned back and whispered close to the Qunari's ear, something Varric couldn't and respectfully wasn't going to make out. Whatever she said made Ash's eyes light up slightly, and his hand around her belly subtly splayed out, covering it possessively.

Happy the big ox was reassured, Varric sniffed and threw his cards exasperatedly. “Andraste's arse, Bull, you've broken my purse _again_.”

“Gotta stop thinkin' you've got my tells down, Varric. It's your fatal flaw.”

“ _Ben-Hassrath_ trained you well,” Ash commented, leaning back in the chair like it was a throne and Hawke was a queen on his lap. Hell, she kinda was, Varric smirked at the thought.

“Yes,” Bull nodded.

Hawke sat back and yawned a bit, stretching slightly. “Think we can still secure mounts in the dawn?” she asked tiredly.

Bull rolled his shoulders. “Absolutely. I'll let Dennet know. He's the stable master. I know just the mount for you.”

“That so, Bull?” Hawke grinned.

“Sure. Pretty mare, strong breed. A bit sassy and defiant, but lovable. Her name's Celeste.”

“Well, I'll look for her, then.”

Varric knew the horse Bull was talking about, remembering when Cassandra had ridden her once and the horse had fought for control with the aggressive Seeker. “Yeah, you suit her better than Cassandra did. Both have strong mules in their genes, I'm betting.”

“Hah, Varric,” Hawke laughed, a wide grin making him smile. She yawned again, cursing, then grunted as her stretch pulled her muscles through her middle and legs. “ _Ouch._ ”

“You okay? No second arrow, right?”

Hawke actually blushed. “Um, no. Just....”

Above her head a slow, steady lift of Ash's mouth started. Varric barked out a laugh and slapped his thigh. “Already working on my first niece or nephew, huh.”

“Shh, Varric,” Hawke laughed quietly, her cheeks still very red.

Ash stared over the side of her face, hand on her belly sliding to stroke down her back with more gentleness than Varric thought the giant capable of. Claws lightly stopped behind her neck, resting a second, before sliding down again. And Hawke hadn't even flinched. Maker, she really did trust him.

“She says she likes pain,” Ash muttered. “But her walk has said otherwise.”

“Well if you got off something as big as a horse, you'd walk funny, too,” Hawke immediately tossed back, snorting over the last of her pint.

Bull almost spit the last of his wine, choking over the the side of his chair away from them. Varric, though, was blindsided, and thankfully not by the dick reference; his time around the Blooming Rose had cured anything like that. Ash, the once Arishok who'd slaughtered his way through Kirkwall and nearly killed the woman on his lap, was grinning. Actually smiling with mirth. Wow. It somehow made the imposing Qunari...dashing. Was this what she'd gotten to see and know, how she...came to be this way with him?

“Should I be... _concerned_ about you obtaining a mount, Hawke?” came his low voice.

The mother of all jokes at Hawke's expense. Varric almost fell out of his fucking chair, gasping for breath and in deep shock that the words had come from _him_. Hawke whipped around, jaw open, a smile on her lips. Bull had given up trying to drink anything and was coughing his lungs out, single eye wide on Ash.

“ _No_ ,” she gushed and lightly smacked his chest with the backs of her fingers.

Varric couldn't take it. He leaned closer to her, grunting, “Good thing you're getting a mare, 'cause you already got a stallion. Big sonofabitch, too.”

“ _Varric Tethras!_ ”

“Aha!” Varric ducked her swipe for his head. “What?”

“Little funny man. Wake up with no clothes, butter on your feet, and a note thanking you for your time, then come talk to me. I hear you have a Red Jenny here. I could pay her for the set up,” Hawke threatened, teeth grinning evilly.

“Oh, do try.”

“Done.”

“ _Kadan_.”

Hawke growled at Varric, sticking her tongue out. “You're spared because my giant lover says in a single tone that I'm immature and stupid and he's not having it. What a lucky friend you are.”

Varric bowed his head towards Ash, winking. “Friends in _high_ places, what can I say.”

“You can say you'll take damn good care of yourself while I'm gone. No more getting kidnapped by good intentioned, aggressive women, for starters.”

“It's the chest hair. Gets 'em every time, Hawke.”

“Oh I know.”

Bull sighed and leaned back in his chair a bit. “Should have been here, Hawke. Inquisitor said he had to stop her from chasing him and knocking his teeth in for hiding your location.”

“Hey, I was protecting my friend! No one else was, and no one else needed to _use_ Hawke again. She'd done enough, been through enough, and if she'd been at that fucking Conclave as an Inquisitor Cassandra wanted, she'd have died!” Varric snapped, hands grabbing the table in the uncharacteristic display of temper. With a low breath, he let go of the wood. “Sorry. That one needed worked out.”

Hawke's brown eyes were very soft. “Varric.”

He shrugged, exhausted from the past years. “Hawke.”

“You're a great best friend, you know.”

“Oh I do. Feran had me finish that awful _Swords and Shields_ serial just to shut the Seeker up. 'Course, he gave it to her with that look on his face. You know the one, Bull. Them big elf eyes all suckering you in. Maker, I think he might wink at Empress Celene and fix all of Orlais soon,” Varric smiled again, sighing. “Gets a rather different reaction from Cassandra than us, of course. We don't fancy his ass.”

“Shit, s'all she stares at. 'Bout time those two got past the crap and went for it.” Bull nodded slowly, drinking. “Yep. I know that look well, Varric. Gets you every time. It says, 'Hey, come with me, it's just a bog of undead, what can go wrong?' Or, 'Hey, Bull, we went through the future because of a Tevinter's time magic. You don't look so good with red lyrium poking out of you, but I love you anyway.'”

Hawke leaned and brushed her shoulder to Varric's. “The elf's sticking on you, huh. Gonna replace me?”

“No. Just...nice to have another good friend,” Varric admitted quietly. “Never seen somebody have to put up with such a diverse plate of shit before and come out smirking. Like we dealt with a _lot_ on just Kirkwall's scale, but his is...far bigger, you know? Seriously. I mean, he's rough and very _elf_ and snappy when he wants to be, but he's got a sense of humor. Should see the way he handles Cassandra. Fucking pro. Wish on Andraste's blessed rack he'd been in Kirkwall when she grabbed me. Hell of a shot, too. Can't beat my Bianca, of course.”

She patted his arm on the table. “It's okay, Varric. You can have more than one close friend, silly.”

“Good to know.”

“That _Bianca_ ever shows up, though, and I'll kill her.” Bull tried to quickly narrow his suddenly wide eye, but it was too late. Hawke knew. “Maker's breath, Varric, you didn't let her back around.”

Varric squared his shoulders. “I dealt with it. I'm done, as much as I can be. She...did something I can't really forgive.”

“About time you stopped allowances.”

“Hawke,” he pleaded, knowing that once she got going, it would be hard to quiet her down again. To be fair, Hawke was the only person he'd ever told the entire story to about Bianca.

With Ash's help she rose to her feet, then bent and hugged Varric tightly to her. “You stay safe, Varric. I'll kick your arse.”

“I know. Same to you guys,” Varric murmured, voice thick with emotion he didn't quite like. He blinked away wetness. “Gotta stop getting social lives so we can hang out.”

“We'll sort it sometime, preferably with one less magister in Thedas.”

“You got it.”

Hawke eyed him, the pain very clear for Varric to see, before she nuzzled his cheek and let go, a smile aimed at Bull in thanks. Ash tilted his head toward them, pausing. He narrowed his eyes upon Varric once. “You will meet again.”

A promise from someone who could deliver. Good. “I...thanks, Ash.”

Ash gave him a curt nod and guided Hawke from the tavern, a firm hand on her back. Varric stared into his empty mug, sighing, not even jumping as Cole reappeared next to him and a concerned Bull.

“Forget?”

“Nah, kid. Not this time.”

 

 


	8. Superstition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superstitions should be heeded. Never know what may come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Oral/Sex.
> 
>  
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.
> 
> P.S.  
> This was based on a playthrough in DA II where Anders dies. Not from personal hate of the character, just for gaming/plot reasons I'm not going into right now.

 

 

 

The first few days of travel were a bit wretched. Hawke took the path she remembered, one reinforced by a map the Inquisitor had given her, back down from Skyhold past the ruins of Haven. The mounts were wonderful with the snow, their fur thick and fuzzy to protect them. She'd gone with the Tasalin Strider Bull had recommended, with the reddish coat and blond mane and stockings. Ash's mount, a huge black warhorse, easily carried his heavy weight. Apparently the animal had been found during an area sweep after a Red Templar fight. Terrified the horse would have corruption from the red lyrium, the scouts had secured the frightened animal that had been bound into service. Dennet explained that it took weeks before the stallion was remotely approachable, and even then only the Inquisitor with that elven touch could get close. Hawke had seen the elk, of course, that great white hart the Inquisitor was famous for riding. It was a beautiful creature, eyeing them at its distance as it chewed on its mixture of hay. She'd been a tad worried that there wouldn't have been a mount big enough, not that Bull didn't himself use, but Dennet had risked taking them to the black stallion, which had surprisingly taken right to Ash. Perhaps the animal had sensed his strength, his desire for mutual benefit.

Whatever the reason it pushed forward through the snow now, its rider wrapped in the heavy great bear fur cloak she'd bought him. Despite his size and strength, he was full Qunari, and that meant he'd been born and raised in much, much warmer conditions. Of course he wasn't going to admit to being cold, not at all. But the slight hunch of his big shoulders under the fur wasn't unnoticed by her careful watch.

They'd decided their path that might most safely avoid populace, both Corypheus-controlled and regular folk who could panic at the sight of them. Unless absolutely necessary, both had agreed to keep going to their location and not stop for trading. Ash could easily take a deer, weapon or not, and feed them both. Hawke kept a tight eye on the rations, a habit picked up from her time in the Deep Roads with Varric.

The traveling so far was peaceful. They spoke quietly, talking about events they'd missed, things that had happened. She explained the Circle rebellion in greater detail, showing him or so she hoped at least creating doubt in his Qun-driven ideals of mages that such treatment could lead to extreme suffering. That of course had set off another Qun-themed argument, as Ash contested that the Qun itself would have eliminated their suffering; her mages would have been born accepting their roles, shaping within them but always with a trusted handler.

He wasn't budging on it, and so she didn't bring up wanting to see Bethany. Her sister was hiding out with a friend in Denerim; Lothering had gotten so slaughtered, the soil so corrupted by the Blight and the darkspawn they'd fled ten years ago, that it hadn't been a safe alternative to hide her. Hawke had given Varric a letter for her sister the morning they'd set out, a guarantee from her dear friend that it would be delivered safely.

Hawke's thoughts wandered as her mare followed the stallion's lead around the snow while they trekked outside a circle of the Haven ruins. How were any of her friends doing? Merrill had taken to helping the elves in the Alienage in Kirkwall, Fenris went after more slavers, Sebastian back to Starkhaven. Aveline was still Guard-Captain, of course. Anders was dead by her own hand, and Isabela had completely left town the moment Hawke considered bucking the city when they put Meredith down. Hawke had debated going on the ship with her friend, but something held her back—not even the idea of sending Bethany felt right. Maybe she hadn't forgiven Isabela for her part in the Qunari's occupation. Maybe she still blamed the thief for the reason he'd left so damn angry, their friendship in tatters that day. Of course, she wasn't telling Ash that she knew where Isabela had gone, not even if he wasn't interested in getting back in the Qun. It would be too tempting to still want to satisfy that revenge.

“You stand in Seheron, your mind is so far,” he intoned over the rough wind as he held back the black steed and backed up slightly.

She came back to herself, eyes visible through her scarf wound about her face under her hood. “Just thinking a lot. Travel actually lets me.”

Ash raised a brow, his horse stamping. “And this slows you so much?”

“I...oh,” she said, shaking her head and cloak a little as she held the reigns on the mare. Her eyes caught the tracks that had doubled back on themselves, indicating he'd turned and come to her. “Sorry, Ash.”

He jerked his head northeast and pointed. Up ahead they could see the snow break as the ground gave way into lower elevation and forestry. It was still several hours of riding away. Thankfully they'd been making excellent time with his brisk pacing, and so would still have a fair amount of daylight for it. “We'll stop there. Do not get behind.”

“Of course,” she thanked him and spurred her horse forward. The mare nickered, bobbing her head as she took the lead; the stallion behind her rumbled, snorting in unhappiness with it, but obeyed his handler.

They spent the time mildly chatting about the Inquisition—its formation, its progress. Its people. Hawke gathered that despite his misgivings, Ash approved of the Iron Bull ally. She did, too, especially after she saw him helping one of his men train when they left the hold. It reminded her much of Ash, though she never saw him doing such things; any time she visited the compound meant a meeting, and so interrupted anything else. But Ash spoke of it, of watching fights and occasionally entering into one himself to keep his skills honed while he sat stuck in Kirkwall.

Hawke looked to her left, seeing him watching her as they got closer and closer to their current destination. “What did you first think of me?”

“I heard a human had caused enough stir. You were...different immediately, surprising in your lack of certain fears, but then you'd gone to the Deep Roads. I assumed you'd die, like most do there. You did not, and so I wondered how,” he explained, sitting back a little in the saddle and looking like a king with the sun glinting off the gold bands on his horns. “The men said you'd done the opposite—found wealth, reinstated your family and status. Tried to protect people. It was honorable, even if misplaced frequently.”

“So I was capable.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Intriguing after initial distaste. Humans.”

“What changed?”

Ash smirked a little. “You defended. You attacked those who attacked us and committed crimes to lay at our feet. It...seemed to genuinely bother you.”

“It did. I grew up with an apostate family. I knew what it was like always feeling attacked or persecuted for being different around everyone else,” Hawke told him tiredly. She smiled a little, though. “What about when I kissed you then?”

“That...hm.”

“Mm?”

“I did not dislike it.”

“Wordy way of saying you enjoyed it.”

Ash grunted at her over the horses' snickers. “Such affection isn't...Qunari in nature.”

“Did you know what it meant, though?”

“Yes. Your scent was strong then, teasing. Had grown that way over a period of time.” Ash slowly smirked as she coughed under her scarf. “I knew my appearance pleased you, my voice, our discussions often. I thought you an anomaly. A _bas_ desiring a Qunari, and an Arishok at that. Bold, Hawke. Unheard of. It angered me some and amused the others. We had not brought females, specified healers for such matters, because the trip wasn't planned to be so long. I...had frustrations.”

Hawke sighed happily. “What can I say, I'm one for firsts and good frustrations.”

“So history will show.”

They stopped the horses in some woods. Ash checked a perimeter while Hawke slid off some of the pack essentials, unburdening the animals and letting them rest. He came back, cloak flowing behind him in the still very chilly breeze, to find her brushing down her mare while the horse drank from the nearby little stream. Together they set up their camp much as they had the last two days, pitching the canvas tent and unpacking their bedrolls, keeping them close together to make a single bed and throwing furs over them for blankets. A small fire was soon blazing outside the tent, when they deemed it safe enough of an area to light one.

Hawke shrugged out of her armor and stepped to the stream with a shiver, using the freezing water to clean off a little bit. She wanted a bath ever so much. As she finished, giving up trying to wash her hair at all for all the cold air, Ash returned with a young august ram over his shoulder. Hawke's brows rose; she'd banked on some rations that night and an early turn in, but apparently the big guy wanted some fresh meat.

She watched him clean the animal, drain it and begin stripping it of meat with a large knife they kept in the supplies. Not long after his time with it, a ferocious grunt caught their attention in the silent woods. Ash rose up, one hand reaching for his sword. A bear was moving through the woods, sniffing out the ram's carcass. Hawke wasn't too worried; they could defend against a single bear. But the bear had a cub, and they looked thin. Damn it.

“Ash,” she whispered, pointing at the baby.

“They will die. It is the way.”

“ _Ash_.”

Their eyes locked. Then, with a dark growl, he jerked the rest of the meat he'd been cutting and threw the carcass far into the forest, toward where the bears were sniffing. The horses grew nervous at the smell of blood and sounds of predators, shifting where they'd been carefully tethered. Hawke watched as the cub found the carcass and began gnawing on it hungrily. Momma bear picked it up and started dragging it the other way, looking back once toward their position before continuing with the cub at her feet, snapping for bites.

Hawke tucked her fur around her and came closer, seeing him cutting the meat smaller and thinner for drying and cooking. Gently she put her arm around his thick neck and kissed his ear. “Thank you, _kadan_.”

“You are ridiculous,” he grumbled, but she caught his tone change from frustration to acceptance. He knew it was just how she was, part of the package. And most times he even liked it.

She didn't stop her smile and kissed his ear again, letting one hand drift through his snowy hair. “That may be. But you have to enjoy it a little or you wouldn't still be here.”

Oh she had him there. Ash paused, grunted, and glanced over his shoulder at her with narrowed eyes. Hawke ran her hand up his scalp and over one of his horns, calming the giant until he began finishing his task again with a low sigh. “It is not always so annoying.”

“I can be cute, huh.”

“The natural order would have said to feed ourselves, Hawke.”

“We have enough and can always hunt more.” Hawke nuzzled between his horns and kissed the area of his crown above the brow. “You're an excellent hunter and provider. A good mate. And now a cub lives longer because of you. That faith, that luck, will come back to you.”

“Human superstition.”

“Yet superstition enough to make us all watch our behavior a lot.”

 

[-------------------------]

 

They lay together that night after eating and packing the rest of the meat with salts and spices. The horses softly chattered together before sleeping outside the tent. Hawke's eyes were open as a breeze lightly played with the canvas above her. A firm gray arm wrapped over her belly, holding her to its owner's chest as he rested. Hawke glanced up and found his eyes closed, breathing evened. Smiling, she kissed a little on his chest.  
  
He'd refrained the last two nights from having sex because he didn't want her too sore to ride down the mountain. It awed her to know he'd only been bred during heats or rutting times, which was not nearly as frequently as she'd thought. Occasionally he'd used one of their sexual “Healers" as he'd mentioned, but his roles more or less kept him to the breeding role cycles; his seed was too precious to spill for any other reason. But she knew he wanted her, and he knew that he could have that connection anytime now. And well, her bruising wasn't _so_ bad with the potions to ease the transition of getting used to his body.

Ash stirred slightly, a claw drifting across her skin. Hawke gently kept up her kissing, tongue lightly licking over her path as she wound her way to his belly. Maker, what a stomach. Lips traced defined muscles with lust. He rumbled a little, one eye cracking to look at her as she shifted under the furs. Her fingers found him already hard. With a smirk Hawke slid over his legs in the dark of the tent and, after stroking him, holding his base, licked up the side of him.

A deep groan sounded stolen from him in the night. Hawke licked up to the tip, swirled her tongue there was her fingers rubbed up and down him, one knuckle teasing under the head. She blew out cool breath over his wet cock, making him gasp a little, then slowly took him into her mouth, the head of him. She suckled, fingers working his shaft as his legs twitched and his knuckles cracked from being tight in fists to control himself. Wetness beaded up from the tip, and she licked it off as she let go of him a moment to readjust. Then she was back over him, taking more, bobbing.

He sighed quietly, as if in sleep, but his erection was practically throbbing in her mouth with want. Her tongue rubbed the underside of him. Fingers drifted to cup his large sac, lightly brushing with a knuckle. Ash's hips bucked very hesitantly before he growled to himself and forced his hips back down in control.

Hawke kept licking and sucking, loving over him in a way he'd never had for simple pleasure. She could feel him bob a little in her mouth, twitching as she hit good spots. Finally he had enough. She felt his large hands slide down and cover her head and shoulder, gently tugging. Hawke slipped her lips off of him and looked up in the shadows. Instantly she was lifted and dragged forward and turned on her side against his chest as he rolled. Hawke felt his thigh shove her legs apart and the tip of him brush her.

She moaned as he thrust inside of her, her work on him making her slick. It wasn't so painful this time, though he still stretched her a lot, and her soreness added hints of interesting pain and pleasure mixture. Ash angled her a little forward and used the tension in his hips to snap upward, panting on her neck. It felt so damn amazing, so filling, with him. A large palm slid up her chest, teasing one breast and then rested between them, pulling her closer. His tough brow, the spots where his horns grew out, rubbed her shoulders as he bent his face and got rougher, moaning in her ear, growls turning her on.

Sharp teeth sank into her shoulder. Hips slammed faster, rougher with need. Somehow Hawke knew that it was his gift to her, as she'd gifted him. She clenched around him as tightly as possible when she came, mouth open, gasping for breath and shuddering heavily in his hold. But he didn't stop. He pushed through until she came again, riding as she whimpered, so sensitive she couldn't stand it. Then, with a tight groan and claws tearing into her left hip, he came in her. It was hot and thick like before, filling her inside.

They lay in silence as he shook and held her tighter, still pulsating a little.

“Enjoy your gift?” she whispered in the dark.

He thrust in response, still semi-hard; his voice was grateful. “Yes, _kadan_.”

“You're welcome,” Hawke sighed as he slid slowly out of her, relaxing. Some of his seed started to trickle a little out, but she was so tired she barely registered it. Hawke fell asleep against the chill of the wind hitting the tent, his arm possessively around her.

 


	9. Admission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing's perfect, but that's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.

 

 

The next few days were slightly eventful as they skirted little camps of refugees and groups of traders brave enough to deal with the many dangers Ferelden now faced. Hawke wasn't nearly as sore or bruised after their second night of sex, and so it began to be a bit of a routine for them, though not always consistent with their varying need to keep watch at times through the night: travel, speak, camp, eat, clean and prepare, make love if possible, pass out. By day five she'd gotten used to the feel of him, though she kept her tightness, stretching and retracting back as her body should have, surprising him pleasantly. She supposed he'd wondered with her smaller size what would happen.

Before they'd left Skyhold, she'd spoken privately with Bull, asking if she needed any sort of tea or potion to counteract any possible conception risks. He'd told her that such things did exist, but they didn't have the time or complete ingredients to make them and conception wasn't as common between the races. It could happen, certainly, and be very difficult to see to completion, but he considered it something that would require intent and effort—actual breeding, like in heats and ruts for the Qunari—more than just sex. Hawke prayed he was right as Ash climaxed inside of her the last three nights, filling her each time proudly.

The wound on his arm had healed very well since they'd kept salves and poultices on it. The hole had mostly closed, and she fully expected it to scar. Yet another mark on him. It infuriated Hawke, but she'd known the moment he'd shifted that day in Skyhold, left hand tightly pushing her awkwardly behind him at an angle, that something had happened. The arrow had come so fast she'd not heard it over her talk with the Seeker. Hawke was just glad his wound wasn't severe, the effects mostly gone. He barely noticed it and let her tend to it while they traveled.

Finally, though, they'd gotten within Crestwood's border. Going north of the Hinterlands and Redcliffe, bypassing the area entirely, had shaved a lot of time off. But trade as well. Some of their supplies were getting low, food-wise, and she debated inwardly if she could maybe trade a little within Crestwood itself.

Rain poured down on them and the mounts. It had warmed enough by the time they'd gotten past Redcliffe that they'd stowed the furs carefully in the packs, but Hawke wished she had some sort of cover. Out, far out over the lake she could see a bright green rift—the one the Inquisitor had mentioned. Nasty business, and something she'd much rather leave him to handle in his growing expertise.

While the danger of those demons was far away, the undead the rift caused were trailing out of the water and up the banks. They avoided most of them, finding it a waste of energy to kill them when more replaced them easily, but as they tried to stay northwest of the hold Leliana had mentioned was overrun with bandits, their luck ran out.

They were noticed by a few men roaming in the rain, watching the road for victims fleeing the undead and storm. When it was clear Hawke and the huge Qunari with her weren't obviously in desperation, but armed and dangerous, reinforcements were summoned. She'd leapt off her mount, daggers drawn. A small guard had come out to kill them for their belongings—seven men, shielded with swords. They'd recognized a Qunari threat and summoned some of their biggest humans.

Ash walked toward them, sword in one hand and ax in the other flipping easily in his grip as he assessed, prepared, waited. Hawke kept an offensive position as she called out, “Leave us and you'll live. Attack us and you'll die. Don't be stupid.”

“You waste your breath,” Ash said beside her and braced as the men at the front of the small unit charged forward with bellows.

Hawke darted around carefully on slick grass and rock, using the dark sky and rain to her advantage as she stealthily slid a dagger between one man's shield and chest, cutting him from behind into a kidney. Ash charged with a roar that mirrored the crackle of the lightning around them, swinging his weapons with beautiful control. Hawke danced out of one sword's reach as her lover cleaved a man in half and broke the shield of another by sheer force of stabbing him, killing him as well. Together they worked, Ash taking the brunt of the assault and attention with no problem while Hawke sneaked around for an archer who'd come out quietly, aiming at her love. Her right dagger sliced cleanly across the elf's throat before she dropped the shaking body.

Ash had worked the bandits down to two in his bloodlust and fury. One tried desperately to flank him, shield cracking him in the lower back and sword coming against his thigh to knock her mate off balance. Hawke moved quickly while Ash was torn between the two and leapt upon the man in front of him, her daggers going through the bandit's back cleanly. Ash spun, focused and blocked the next swing of the human's sword. With a loud snarl he twisted and slammed his head against the last attacker. Hawke actually winced at the sound, hearing it this time without the worry in Skyhold like he'd done then to the assassin. But this hit connected properly unlike that one. The bandit's head burst, literally, his brains coming out cracks. The man stumbled, losing motor control and vision, shield stuck on a lame arm and sword childishly poking air. Ash growled and swept his blade across, decapitating the bandit and finishing the kill.

Hawke watched the head bounce down the nearby hill with a wrinkled nose. “Are you wounded?” she asked as she stepped closer, blades back in her hands.

“Sword wasn't sharp enough to cut through the armor,” he rumbled, flicking the blood from his weapons as the rain poured and helped rinse them off. “The horses may need tracked.”

“Shit,” she cursed and took off in the direction they'd left them. Sure enough, they found the horses a rather far distance, grazing against a cliff side, their muscles twitching. Hawke calmed the mare while Ash immediately took control of the stallion. “Let's get as far north as possible. This place is riddled with caves. We find one preoccupied, we rid the inhabitants and make camp.”

“Go,” he grunted in agreement, the pounding of his horse's hooves following her.

An hour later they stopped in a small side cave to the northwest. A few bandits had taken up in it, but were easily dispatched along with the two large spiders that had crawled out of somewhere in the back. Ash had drug the bodies out and flung them down the hillside, getting the smell away. Hawke shivered from the cold rain exposure, glad for the fire he'd made further back in the cave in effort to keep the light hidden. She stripped down and wrung out the her underclothes, armor drying on some of the rocks nearby. The horses, coaxed in easily once lightning struck close, chewed on oats they'd managed to keep.

Ash watched her crouch near the fire, arranging her underclothes on closer rocks in hopes they might also dry some. Despite the heat of the flames, she shook, fingernails blue. He unsnapped the damp bedrolls near her, tugged the dry fur out of the leather bags they'd been stowed in. “ _Kadan_ , come.”

Hawke turned with a mild sneeze and crawled over where he'd already half-lay on his side. She curled against his heated naked body, unafraid of the storm or the bandits possibly searching for them. He'd planned on staying armored, prepared in case, but after they'd secured the cave and he'd sat near the front, watching quite a while, he deemed it unworthy. The bandits were facing the same conditions as they were, and with actual night making the storming area even blacker, it was completely hard to see. Torches barely stayed lit under the heavy rain. They were safe for the night.

Even so his dark, gold-rimmed eyes watched the entrance near where the horses had quietly bedded down. Hawke kissed his bandaged arm and nuzzled against his chest in comfort. His arm reached past her, shuffling some things around until he handed her a mild potion and some jerky they'd made from the first ram. “Hm?” she asked, sniffing again.

“You're getting sick. Take the potion. Eat. You need your strength.”

Hawke nodded, brow feeling warm, and popped the vial's topper, downing the not so tasty contents in a single gulp. She groaned, fought the urge to spit the last of it from her mouth, and ripped a piece of the jerky with her teeth as she lay on her back. Her eyes closed as she chewed, the furs covering her warmly by the fireside. Cool, smooth lips brushed her brow gently, and she sighed, rubbing against them.

Ash grumbled against her skin. “You are warm, yet your body shudders with cold. Fever.”

“Happens with all the rain exposure after the snowy cold temperature change. Being near undead did not help,” she explained, her head beginning to pound. The potion had started to take slow effect, easing some of her shivers and aches, the sniffles, but her brow stayed a bit warm.

He kissed her brow, eyes tight on her before his mouth settled over hers once. Hawke pulled away, getting a growl. “I don't want to make you sick.”

“Such little trifles do not bother me,” he grunted back and kissed her again, head moving above her as his tongue slid into her mouth.

Hawke moaned, fingers curling into that drying white hair. She loved him. Every part of him. She'd long forgiven his attack on Kirkwall, even knowing as it had happened the reasons that had led up to it. But the one thing that stuck out in her mind then came to her now as he kissed her feverishly himself. “Mmph,” she grumbled, struggling a moment until he backed off.

Ash's eyes were full of heat and want. “ _What?_ ” he asked in sexual frustration.

“You let them throw spears at me before we fought. They could have killed me before I left the compound, before you got your relic. I'd confessed she'd run off with it, and then you started your attack,” she recounted, eyes flickering with the firelight.

The sexual rawness of his look instantly faded.

“You wanted to purge the city then. Started it at that moment. Didn't wait, and I can't say I blame you either, but what would you have done if one of your men had killed me right there?” she asked, voice going soft but tense. “I told you how angry I was at her when I took responsibility. I would never have done anything to hurt you like that. Ever. So if I had died then, would you have realized anything? Cared? Stepped on my corpse to show example? ”

His body shook with tension as he closed his eyes in anger.

“So I see,” Hawke said and rolled away, eyes looking at the shadows on the wall of rock. She well remembered now the look of reconsideration as she'd been running for her life, how he'd had a split second to wonder something—if he'd acted too quickly against her words and she as well.

“I had no choice. You hadn't converted. I couldn't protect you,” he softly began, obviously trying to control his temper as his claws trailed gently down her spine. “I needed to purge the city, find the Tome. Not one of those spears hit an easy mark on you in that moment _because_ they feared my response. Only I had rights to you, regardless of the interaction.”

Hawke remained silent, tension racking her body. She wasn't sure why she suddenly thought of it, needed to know his motivations—perhaps the fever had simply put her in the right mind to drudge up the past. But it ate at her.

He continued when she said nothing, “And...despite my personal desires, I realized that without your conversion, or perhaps even with it, I had been distracted from my purpose. In those seconds I admit to...wondering if it had been a clever trap all along. The idea burned my blood. When I gave the order and you fled, I saw in your eyes your confusion, hurt, then your acceptance of the situation. There was no hatred, no smirking confidence. No betrayal of me but what you must do since I'd drawn the final line against the city. I...questioned.”

Ash had once thought she'd manipulated him, distracted him from his purpose often enough that he'd been weakened, an empty threat? She'd never underestimated the Qunari capability; in fact she'd been silently hoping each day that she woke wasn't going to be the day they finally had had enough of Kirkwall and struck it down. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep quiet.

“Hawke,” he quietly spoke, wary of their voices echoing. “The thief returned with the relic. Handed it to me so brazenly, as if that made it acceptable for its theft. Imagine one of ours stealing something of your Chantry, something holy of your Andraste, and tell me the carnage you'd have wrecked upon the Qunari returning it.”

“I never said you were wrong to demand it,” Hawke finally muttered, tired. As much as she'd grown to care for Isabela, if the pirate hadn't returned, Hawke probably would have helped the damn Arishok find her. She'd felt so angry, so betrayed that it had actually been a might trying to not take up his offer. To let them leave with Isabela as, honestly, they rightfully should have. But her stupid weakness for her friend, her relief and pride as Isabela had returned, claiming it Hawke's own influence over her character, showing such progress...she'd buckled. “I was weak.”

“Yes.”

Strangely enough, that affirmation did not hold the snark or arrogance she'd expected. It sounded almost...sad.

“I want you to know she didn't take advantage of me after. She helped repair the damages, fought by my side and saved my life during the fighting when the Circle broke. She gave back, created her own order in a life of disarray she'd known.” Hawke rubbed her brow that had grown slightly warmer to her displeasure. “That is why I cannot regret the weakness. Strength came out of it.”

He was silent so long behind her that Hawke, in her growing fever state and exhaustion, actually managed to fall half-way asleep. Ash's rumble woke her, making her blink in confusion. “In the end...you did as one under the Qun. You reeducated her, re-purposed her. Saved her by giving her order.”

“I damn well tried,” Hawke grumbled tiredly. Isabela _had_ changed a lot, yeah, but the woman still had plans for that pirate ship. Thankfully those plans ended up including helping Fenris get around to track down slavers.

“Then...you were right.”

“Doesn't mean I wasn't also wrong at the time.”

His soft lips brushed her ear, breath on her skin. “You never stop proving how right my instincts were to choose you as my _kadan_. So strong, so capable. Able to see chances where others can only see ends. You are wise, even at times when it isn't clearly wisdom. Even in my anger then, I heard the wisdom in your words.”

“Your exile allows you to see that. Without your distance from the Qun, you'd never remotely feel that way.”

“I...perhaps. The Qun bound me, gave me purpose, but you made me question. I hadn't questioned in my entire existence, but at how Kirkwall was standing around me. Then I met you.” A heavy brow rubbed against her scalp. “I should have given you opportunity to join me, not...considered you so manipulative or like that redheaded female companion of yours in the end. Spears should not have been thrown at you, not when even up to that moment of temper you supported me and rationality in protecting those two elven _viddathari_. There had been no time to think—just reaction as my patience was lost. It had become time for action.”

A nose circled her ear, a warm tongue licking its edge before lips suckled it carefully.

Hawke shivered, brow hot and body aroused.

“I am sorry, _kadan_.”

No matter the state her fever had on her, her brown eyes opened immediately, clearing some of the sickness's fog. He had _never_ apologized to her before. Never. Not even for nearly killing her. Never so directly, never without some counter explanation as his way of defense instead. So much was the same about him and yet his touch, his emotions, his words showed how far he'd come.

Hawke closed her eyes against the tears that beckoned and rolled, arms sliding around his large neck. Ash bent his head to her throat, licking and kissing, as one hand settled intimately on her raised hip. She didn't want to stop, but her head throbbed and she winced, eyes barely able to stay open as the fog began to return. Ash realized what her protest was and grabbed her wet undershirt, letting the cold material rest over her hot brow.

Over the next while he fed her, bit by bit, forced her to drink another potion and from the wineskin they'd filled with water. And then when she could no longer even lift a finger, he curled her against him, doused the fire for protection, and let his warmth and bulk do the rest.

 


	10. Tainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of these bas doesn't smell like the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

“Inquisitor, I'd like you to meet Stroud.”

Ash watched the elf move past Hawke and three of his allies to shake the hand of the Warden Hawke had protected.  
  
The last week had been spent speaking with Stroud and keeping their cave free of spiders and bandits while they waited on the Inquisitor to arrive. Four days into the week, the never ending storm had finally stopped. Ceased, almost if by magic. Ash had stomped out of the cave, frowning as he looked around at the sudden bright sun and very damp, partially flooded ground. Hawke had followed him, just as in awe, then pointed out across where the once green light of the rift had been still slightly visible for them to see in the dark of the stormy time. It was gone. The Inquisitor had fulfilled his first duty. Hawke had been so happy to have dry clothes again that she'd mounted him that night during the sunset, brazenly controlling their mating but making him love every part of it.

Day five was the first Inquisition scout interaction. The human had luckily avoided Ash's ax by immediately whipping out an official note from the elf for Hawke. The Inquisition had taken the bandits’ keep. They were welcome to relocate to it for supplies, food and shelter. If not, the Inquisitor would be out within the next day or so, once he'd tended to an unexpected matter of Crestwood; it appeared the mayor had flooded the old part of the town with healthy and blight-ridden folk alike, lying about his action to “protect” the rest who'd been on higher ground. The news had broken like the storm that had plagued the land, and the citizens were furious, demanding the man's head—but the mayor had fled.

Frustrated, but understanding, Hawke had accepted the information and refused the keep, not wanting to leave Stroud unprotected since Wardens had been spotted by the Inquisitor himself. Ash hunted that day, avoiding an easy druffalo kill as it would have been too much for them to utilize and went for one of the smaller white and brown rams. It fed the three of them, and he and Hawke had returned back to their cave yet again, eyes sharp, but not as much now that the bandits had been dealt with.

Since her fever and her mild confrontation with him, Ash had found himself in a stranger state than he had been—which said something. He felt actual regret for the first time, wondered often at how different things could have gone if he'd just requested her help before it all broke. If he'd told her, in no uncertain terms, the protection he'd have offered. But he knew she wouldn't have taken the vows of the Qun. Not that easily. Even in his exile he wondered if it would have been easier for her to do so. If he didn't have her at his side now, hadn't had pursuit of her before that as purpose, he'd be so lost that he would have followed on his initial thought and taken his own death.  
  
The Qun had not prepared him for any life outside of it, understandably, but it had left him even more vulnerable than that. He'd been bared, stripped, shown a side of the Qun he'd only imagined _bas_ to misunderstand. They never had, not really. They'd just fought it with this interpretation, as he'd fought their lack of awareness of the side he had seen. He'd been left even worse than those who called themselves the Tal-Vashoth, for he had not spit on the Qun and rebelled against it in arms. Even so, he'd moved on. Gained a second chance, a second weapon, a new soul and name, a _kadan_.

Such awareness gave him strength.  
  
His gold eyes flicked to her in the torchlight of the cave while the Inquisitor spoke. Her cold had passed over the week, mostly due to his persistence with the potions and fluids, but her scent had changed strangely. He found himself desiring her even more than he had, as she seemed to be undergoing as well, neither unable to hold back on a nightly basis now without interruption of the routine. Each time he came to completion; each time he felt peace renewed. He'd mated her, losing himself in her satisfaction and his own and wondering how the fuck he'd survived in the Qun with ruts and breeding only a few times a year at most or relief from the specialists, none of either while he was in Kirkwall for years. He knew that, at least toward the end of that time, her interest and kiss had made the lack of sexual release almost painful and frustrating, when it had been before just a fact of life. Now here he was, constantly reaching completion and wondering how the fuck it was possible. Did Qunari like himself only rut and heat because they restricted themselves often with assignments and breeding selection? He wasn't sure anymore. But he knew his female loved him despite all the wrongs between them, all the half-futures that could have happened instead. Loved _him_ , not a role or power or aspect of him. All of him. It was...a novel respect to have.

Perhaps that was why he wasn't feeling...like nothing, no longer even scarily almost _basra_. He felt solid. Strong. In many ways like his old self, just without the heavy responsibilities and duties. He was free to go where he wanted when he wanted, fuck when he wanted, and _feel_ how he wanted. The instant freedom was almost too much, and that was why he'd fought it since his exile, clinging to remnants of the Qun that he couldn't shun, that had been good to him. That's why he'd tried...harming himself once.

But now he wondered if that was only damaging him more, his clinging slightly to the Qun even now. Ash had to redefine the things about himself that his role had defined for him. He needed to embrace this new life fully, and his mate was respectful and understanding enough to meet him halfway. No forcing of human culture on him, no conversion to the Qun for her. Just...balanced existence. She shifted, her smell touching his nose again as he breathed it in like a life force.

One of the _bas_ also shifted behind the Inquisitor. A male, bearded. Warden. Ash frowned suddenly. He'd not met the man before, but....  
  
He sniffed heavily behind Hawke, trying to find scents other than her delicious one. There was darkspawn taint in the cave, but it only had one source—Stroud. Qunari eyes narrowed menacingly. Why would this human lie about being a Warden? If he'd heard right, the man was famous as one. Impossible without the taint scent. The Inquisitor couldn't have known, not the elf with the demanding presence—he lacked a Qunari's sense of smell. Perhaps the Bull knew and said nothing? But even the Bull seemed honestly protective of the elf, so then what reason would he have? Maybe the Qunari had never smelled the taint strongly enough to realize. So it bore down then to either the bearded man being a spy or an assassin, because Ash could seriously not imagine any other reason for such deception.

Suddenly the man spoke up, discussing the Calling problem with Stroud, worried as well about all of the Wardens hearing it and listening, none of them questioning why all would hear it at once. Something about a plan, a rather foolish plan to preempt the next blight by killing an old god before it was corrupted by the darkspawn. Ash tilted his head, gritting his teeth at the stupidity. Yet, during that entire conversation, the impostor Warden had remained sincere in scent, wanting to help save an organization he...apparently loved. Ash pushed the information aside to speak with Hawke about, see what she thought they should do.

How fucking bizarre. Ash glanced briefly over the other _bas_ , some Imperium _bas saarebas_ human with a mustache and a smirk who had brazenly eyed him when they'd entered. The Qun hadn't made such distinctions illegal or immoral, but he found it strange when he had given himself to a female and some _bas_ was openly viewing him with appreciation.

The last _bas_ in the room was the Seeker woman, frowning during the entire discussion with Stroud. She was capable, that Ash knew with certainty. She'd had a reputation before this—born from a line of dragon hunters who gave herself distinction by becoming a Seeker and the Right Hand of the last Divine. Regardless of her religious devotion, the female had slain the _atashii_ , and that in itself granted respect.

“Has the Calling bothered you, Blackwall?” the elf asked with mild concern, turning to the bearded impostor.

“Nothing I can't handle.”

Ash snorted, catching the man's eyes and Hawke's attention as she turned, puzzled and frowning. He shook his mighty head, eyes keen on the man. The conversation changed, but the man didn't seem as reassured anymore, eyes flicking back to him frequently in worry. The longer he stared the more Ash knew the man believed he hadn't been denouncing his arrogance, but his ability. Telltale shifting nervousness began to show.

“The Wardens won't give up without a fight, but we have no choice. They must be shown reason or they will kill us all. Maybe if we can meet with this Tevinter ally of theirs that has led them so astray we can manage to save some of them, make them see,” Stroud said, voice straining in worry. “Something is very wrong.”

It all seemed to come back to the magister who wanted to become a god. Ash sneered, unafraid of such a creature. His own mate had killed it once before, and it only survived through trickery, no doubt. They'd kill it again, cut off its secrets, and go their way. He almost didn't want to help the Wardens, who had clearly made their own huge mess and deserved to be brought to bear for it, but Ash remembered one of the companions the Hero of Ferelden had during the Blight was one of his own—a hornless Sten, and he'd come back to the Qun with lots of information and positive judgment of the Grey Wardens—at least the two he'd worked with, Cousland and Alistair.

“Have you located Cousland? Has he been taken? Alistair still sits in Denerim, so I've heard. He's safe, for now. They can't outright sacrifice the king of Ferelden for this madness!” Stroud snapped and pounded the table covered in maps and books he'd brought.

The Inquisitor nodded tightly. “My spymaster knew the Hero of Ferelden. He is being tracked at this moment for help. I've been told his disappearance is completely different—something to do with stopping the Calling itself.”

“Maker, may he be successful, but no one could rally these blind fools faster than Cousland could!”

“There's nothing to be done about that at this time,” the Seeker interrupted, clearly defensive of the elf as she drew close. “We are doing all we can for it.”

Stroud blinked and rubbed his neck. “My apologies. You, in your organization's beginnings, can understand the level of isolation I feel in this matter.”

“Of course. You have our support,” the Seeker continued.

“And mine,” Hawke chimed in. “If those Wardens hadn't wanted him free to begin with, tricked me to going there, I'd not have released and slaughtered him the first time. We'll have to find out what he's doing to keep himself alive when his body lies dead, on top of all of this.”

Ash watched her fierce eyes with pride. Despite this situation being strangely enough the best for them together, part of him still liked to wonder what it would have been like with him still in his role, going to her for healing or breeding with her, only her in his fantasy, giving her _imekari,_ coming back to her after expedition, and watching her shake the world around her under the Qun with her own missions, perhaps even some together.

“Ash, you with me?” she asked, turning to him. All of the eyes in the cave did with her.

He nodded once, brow raised. As if she needed to ask. Must be for the benefit of the _bas._

Plans were drawn up to meet at an important Warden spot in the Western Approach before any attack on Adamant could begin. The Inquisitor pledged to take everything to his advisers, have Cullen prepare ahead. The elf then turned to them. “Join us. Resupply. We will go together.”

Hawke almost protested, but then the elf looked to Stroud. “All of us.”

Silence lasted for a few moments before Hawke gave a tight nod. It would be smarter, safer, no doubt. But Ash was _not_ looking forward to it. Too many humans, too many eyes. Too many opportunities for Qunari blades to be hidden.

The impostor helped the real Warden pack up his things, and Hawke and Ash left to do the same with their camp, all agreeing to meet with the Inquisition at the hold they'd acquired nearby. He debated only a moment as everything was being packed neatly away before he stopped and took her jaw to get her attention. Hawke frowned. “What is it, love?”

“The Inquisitor's Warden,” Ash began, releasing her chin. “He is false.”

“Blackwall? He's well noted in their organization. Not a chance he's a spy.”

“I did not say spy. I said false.”

Hawke's frowned deepened. “What do you mean, _kadan_?”

“He carries no taint,” Ash explained. “It is part of the ritual, part of conversion for ability. Our...Qunari who'd regained his weapon and returned after being near your Ferelden Hero mentioned overhearing talks about such things in their camps. It was held tightly as knowledge by the Triumvirate in case of...battle. We'd sent the Sten as part of a group to understand the new Blight, and he stated on his return that the smell of the darkspawn creatures had tainted the ones called Wardens around him.”

At first she didn't look like she believed him, but slowly her eyes widened as he stayed absolutely serious. “You can tell by smell if they're tainted?”

“Yes.”

“And Blackwall...he isn't?”

“He is not. I have fought rare groups of darkspawn near borders from tunnels they'd dug. He does not have the smell. Your Stroud Warden does, faintly.”

“Holy Maker,” Hawke gasped, nearly dropping the bag of provisions they'd managed to keep going. “Shit, Ash, what should I do? The Inquisitor has to know!”

Ash hummed and strapped one of the packs to the stallion's rump near the saddle. “He cares deeply for the Wardens, but he lies. There is...something else going on, but the deception seems personal. He can tell I'm suspicious. He will probably reveal the cause soon enough.”

“Maker, I hope you're right. I hate not telling Feran this. The Inquisitor has done enough to help us get to this point,” Hawke muttered, brow pressing to the mare's side. “I feel like a traitor for keeping shut about it.”

“No. It is just not our place. Let the man come clean on his own. He now has push, reason. Even if it is later than sooner, he will be discovered.” Ash finished tying everything up on his mount and double-checked the straps on the mare. “It is his greatest fear.”

“You...know that much by watching and scenting?”

“Well before I was Arishok, I was considered for _Ben-Hassrath_ among other roles. I underwent some of the training before the assignment was changed officially,” he explained, satisfied when the straps held properly.

Hawke shook her head in frustration, fists at her side. “I do not like this.”

“This is not your lesson. It is the elf's. He must see that no matter the intention, anything can be corrupted.”

“As you learned, even with the Qun?”

“...yes.”

Hawke shook off the defense that had automatically sprung up, eyes apologizing to him before she stepped on her toes and kissed him. Ash closed his eyes, feeling her little fingers in his hair. He lifted her off her feet, kissing her back. When the kiss broke, he sighed, inhaled deeply, and carried her to sit in her saddle. His _kadan_ thanked him, softly smiling, and as he rode out after her to the nearby hold, he sought his memories, eyes widening as he realized that scent was familiar for a reason. It was different with her being human, but there wasn't a doubt any longer as it strengthened and cleared in the clean wind.  
  
His female was _in heat_.  
  
Gold trimmings on his eyes flashed as his horse rode heavily behind hers, a low growl coming up his throat.

 


	11. Don't Go Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull sees WAY more than he meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My take on fanfic tropes and Qunari breeding.  
> Lolz.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

About half of the Inquisitor's personal allies had come to the Crestwood hold with him. Solas had stayed behind this time, deciding to work on something within the Fade. Vivienne also remained, letters regularly getting sent out of her hands, while Sera kept up with her Red Jenny contacts. No one ever really knew where Cole was unless he was summoned.

Bull eyed Leliana's men and women of different races as they worked together, quickly building a network of the area and catching up. The mess with the mayor was going to be a serious issue, one he was glad not to have to handle. More for the Inquisitor, who despite being a thin elf, was scary as shit on that throne of his. Hilariously enough, Feran had asked him once if there was any training he could get to look more imposing. The elf literally had no idea how much of the symbolism attached to him by the people had combined with his personal aura and done the task for him.

Varric was chatting with Hawke near a fire, obviously happy to see his friend again in good health. They went back aways, a famous friendship, even. It made Bull glad to see the dwarf not get so glum again. But there was one thing seriously worrying him, and that was the behavior of the other Qunari.

Ever since their arrival to the hold Ash had been silent. Very silent. His strangely dilated eyes watched everything, almost never blinking, and each time Hawke shifted near him he scented her with flared nostrils, gaze narrow and sharp. Bull had been trying to discern the behavior, because clearly the former Arishok was wrestling with a problem no one else was seeing. Something no one else but Bull might understand. The look on Ash's face kept getting darker as he struggled with whatever it was, and even Hawke kept readjusting her sitting position, able to feel the change in the atmosphere. Bull left his eye on the people around them, wondering if the other Qunari had sniffed out something unsavory.

Rations from hunters were brought in and served. Those who'd taken the keep went first, half of them still shaking off injuries. When he was satisfied those people had gotten enough, Feran nodded and the rest took their portions. It was something that bought him great respect among the people who flocked to them. He hunted as much as he could, bringing down druffalo by himself with well placed arrows.

Eating near the fire Varric had established as his makeshift card area, Bull drank down his pint and frowned. Scanning the crowd of those eating and those last through the line for food and drink, he saw two people were missing. And one of those people was a huge thing to miss. He immediately got up with a tight look and left his plate under Varric's careful watch, claiming he was going for a piss.

Bull slowly walked as if he were in fact going down to do so, but his eye was open, ears listening carefully. He nodded at some of the scouts, having befriended many or at the least made a lot of acquaintances. Half of them had asked to join his company after this was all said and done. People seemed to be hanging over most areas, even quiet spots against staircases. But there was no Hawke and no former Arishok.

If it hadn't been for the obvious tight control that Ash had been leashing earlier, Bull wouldn't think twice about them disappearing. A newly free Qunari would have been like he was once he was released into the spy network—he'd fucked his brains out. But, crap, Ash looked so...so....

Bull froze, his back facing a door that led down into the area where the dam could become accessible. He'd used it with Feran days ago, and the elf had barred it since, wanting to keep the drowned village he'd uncovered as undeniable evidence of the mayor's crimes. But the bar was down, sitting across the ground in front of it. Bull heard something, something that sent his senses on absolute edge. With a hint of doubt, he stood still. Waited. Nothing...and then....

A scream.

A loud bang of collision.

A muted roar.

Oh _vashedan_ , Bull thought, and after a quick look around to be sure he was unnoticed, easily fiddled with the already unlocked door and cracked it open; he slid inside as silently as possible, shutting the door with care of his spy training. The sounds were louder now, though muted enough to be coming from further down...in the cave that led to the back gate and the long bridge to the dam.

Another roar, then a growl. A demand half-growled so that its diction was lost.

They sounded like so many things, and with the echo it made it harder to tell if the former Arishok had fucking snapped. He supposed it possible, given all the crap done to him and given to him in the reeducation attempt. Bull very gently stepped over near the flooring and toward the descending ladder. There were scuffling noises, then the clanging of armor on rock. The sound of Hawke moving fast. A mighty bellow in response.

Shit, shit, shit!  
  
Bull swallowed and tried to lean, but it was so hard to see without sliding down the next level. There was a torch lit down there, that's all he could tell aside from the ladder below him and the wooden platform and stairs leading into the cave floor.

Suddenly the once Arishok came right into view below him, horns tilted. His teeth were bared, eyes deadly narrowed, and he had some scratches on his bare chest. His armor hung off of him, not removed properly. Hawke slammed into him with a grunt and a possible laugh, trying to force him back steps. Half of her armor was gone, her gauntlets a bit bloody. Ash lowly snickered and flung her off of him out of Bull's sight, then charged wherever she'd landed with a cry.

Bull debated how the fuck he was going to stop this fight. It seemed absolutely bizarre to happen, but maybe they'd had some argument and it had escalated. Or were they just sparring to chill him out? Fuck, though. More clanking. A smothered yelp. Bull tried to carefully slide to a different angle so he could make sure Hawke wasn't fucking bleeding out.

The sounds changed. The growling wasn't so as rough as it was dominating. Hawke grunted out in pain, hissing through her teeth loudly enough for it to echo. Bull frowned, slid again, and cursed himself for not realizing soon enough.

Ash had her backed against a large connecting rock, half of her armor torn from her. Bull could see his back was scratched up some, his armor and pants loose at his hips. The Qunari's teeth were in her throat, digging in with force and making Hawke jerk as an obvious upward thrust of the male's hips smacked into her. The moment she tried to wriggle a little, he snarled over his bite and lifted slightly before slamming her back into the rock, dazing her briefly before continuing his thrusts and getting her to moan. Hawke's awareness returned more, and she bit him back for a moment; Ash growled out in dominating pleasure.

Bull cursed inwardly and carefully retreated, ignoring the rest of the sounds. Quietly he made for the exit, shutting the door behind him with absolute precision. He made sure to bar the door a little with a wine cask and the hunk of wood that had been already in use, then strode to the fire, yanking his plate back from Varric and worrying slightly.

“Hey, you seen Hawke? I thought she was grabbing dinner and coming back after she got their supplies ready for resting. It's been too long,” Varric said, honey brown eyes searching the people around them. “I don't see any horned giant besides you, either.”

Feran had sat down opposite them on the bench as it curved around the fire. His keen light eyes settled on Bull's tenseness. “What is it?”

“You cannot go down.”

“What?” Varric asked, confused.

Bull grit his teeth. “Do _not_ go in that room,” he growled out and pointed with his fork to the door he'd left. “Do _not go_ down.”

“Bull, what's going on?” Feran asked lowly, elegant brows furrowing. He stood when Bull beckoned him to come closer, bending to hear the whisper.

Varric elbowed Bull's arm. “Hey, tell me. Is it Hawke? Where is she?”

Feran jerked back from his whisper, eyed the door, and looked to the fire, trying to find a way to no doubt bar the room entirely from people without alerting anyone. Varric sighed, exasperated. “Someone fucking say something.”

“Hawke will be fine. I think. She's pretty sturdy, anyway.”

“What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?” Varric hissed low. “Bull?”

Bull sighed and stabbed into the bit of meat left on his tin plate. “Something set off the rut. Probably her cycle. After that time trapped in Kirkwall, he'd have been denied anything.”

“What's a rut?”

He didn't stop the tightness of his mouth from showing. “It's...you know. The season. Look, Varric, under normal circumstances everything would be planned out. There's a proper chamber. You go in, they give you supplies, and you don't come out for a few days.”

Varric frowned at him, jerking back in confusion. “Are you telling me Hawke is down in that cave area? For a few days? What, he going all Arishok and can't handle the people or worries about an assassin?”

“Uh uh.” Bull swallowed the last of his mead. “He's rutting. Good thing they've figured each other out. Still scared the shit out of me. She scratched the hell out of him from what I could tell before he flung her and slammed her into the rock. Hopefully she doesn't have a mild concussion.”

“He's _hurting_ her?” Varric suddenly jumped off the bench and grabbed for his crossbow nearby, storming toward the door.

Bull instantly moved and picked Varric up like he would a child about its stomach, hugging the heavy dwarf against his side as Varric kicked out and thrashed. “No, Varric. Stop.”

“Hawke's in danger!”

Feran bent in front of Bull and looked right into Varric's eye. “Silence. Do not scare the others.”

“I can't. I can't let it happen this time,” Varric choked, looking up awkwardly perpendicular in Bull's hold until the Qunari sat the dwarf on his feet, kneeling a little too.

Bull smiled. “Trust me. He ain't killing her.”

“What the hell are you talking about then?”

“Shh,” Bull demanded, finger to his lips. Ever so quietly, over the noise of the people laughing and eating, another very muted bestial roar was heard. Varric shook at the sound and looked right into Bull's eye. He smirked at the dwarf. “He's _breeding_.”

Varric almost fell backward. “ _That_ is what rutting means?”

“Yep. It can get pretty violent, but he's probably more aggressive from being in Kirkwall, then prison, like I said.” Bull stood up as Feran did. “I wasn't bred like he was. He'd have gotten into a pattern over some time. Seasons, if you will. Denied that in Kirkwall meant tight control and repression of instinct. Can't repress forever.”

“So you're telling me that right now, below us, my best friend is getting knocked up by a giant who can't control himself, and he's hurting her.” Varric gripped back for Bianca. “That's rape, Bull. I'll murder him.”

Bull put a strong hand on Varric's shoulder. “Hey. She chose him. This is part of it. And, no, I don't think this was all one-sided and non-consensual, okay? Hawke could kill him if she needed to, at the very least fuck him up enough to get through the tunnel. So just hang on. But you can't go in there. Can't go too close. I'm lucky I got as close as I did without startling him. In this state he could kill you and not even remember doing it. That's why they seal people in the rooms until they're out of the haze. It is _dangerous_ to interrupt a rutting. Trust me, there's horror stories of dead servants and priests, even partners killing each other if they weren't matched well—that's why matches became...almost a science for us in breeding.”

“But Hawke....”

“Will be fine. Believe me, she was handling it well. She wasn't afraid.” Bull scratched his chin. “More like...baiting him, I think. He even kinda laughed at her before he charged once.”

Varric put a hand to his face. “Maker, bless her for being a good person, but she's _really_ stupid sometimes. The sex can't be that damn good.”

Feran chuckled and clapped Varric's other shoulder briefly. “It'll be all right. I'll just have to have someone stationed near it. Say it's off limits for now, just like it has been anyway. Should deter anyone nosing.”

“Too suspicious. Varric, you and me, we'll set up over near that old stall by it and relax.”

“That works.” Varric grabbed his dishes and followed the other two toward the stall, shaking his head. “Days, you said?”

“At least a couple. It's not anything he can stop; just instinct to mate as much as possible, keep her good and, uh...full. Yeah. Might get that niece or nephew after all, Varric.”

“Andraste's fucking tits, Bull, it's too soon.”

“Something set off his rut. She smelled a bit different, so it might have been her female cycle, like I said. No guarantee with her being human it'll take, so don't worry yet. Good thing that mayor's gone AWOL, though, or we'd have to leave them behind.”

Feran grunted as he plopped down on a chair, completely the opposite image of a noble leader. “Don't remind me.”

Bull grinned and clipped the elf's arm. “We'll find him, Boss. Don't worry.”

 

 


	12. The Rut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intensity and intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My take on fanfic tropes and Qunari breeding.  
> Lolz.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

Hawke collapsed against the sandy floor of the cave, fur and bed roll under her, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath and not let her heart fly from her body. Ash was panting, falling to his side a little on top of her. Soreness licked her thighs and insides, a painful throbbing accompanying it in the back of her skull and spine. Slowly she opened her brown eyes and looked to him. He had some minor (for him) scratches from her gauntlets on his upper torso. They'd heal without scarring on his thick skin. A little bit of blood, both his and hers, dripped on his lip to his chin and onto the sand as he let the air rush into his lungs.

His neat eyes opened on her, a look of rationality coming over them. Ash immediately forced himself up, scowling as he looked over her below him. Hawke knew what he'd see—armor half-stripped, ripped underclothes, claw marks near her breasts skirting down her cleavage, blood on her mouth and a fresh bloody bite on her neck.

He was still inside. Thick and ready in his somehow still aroused state.

Ash whipped his head and slammed his brow into a very thick rock on the ground next to him in his anger, no doubt at losing his prized control in any way. The damn boulder cracked from the hit. Hawke winced at the impact, hoping he'd not hurt himself as he huffed and kept his face there. Gently her fingers reached up and brushed his beautiful white hair from his eye and ear, tucking it.  
  
“Shh,” she whispered, stroking up one horn and down his scalp. “I'm okay.”

He'd warned her. Only just. Hawke had known her gray love would want a place away from the rest of the people to feel safe, to feel she was safe, so she'd grabbed some of their packed stuff and brought it down here. The Inquisition forces had already killed any spiders in the area, and the door had no doubt been blocked to ward off anyone going inside to use the path to the dam.

“Hawke,” Ash had groaned out as he stepped down the wooden stairs of the ladder, looking at her.

The sound had gotten her attention immediately; he'd been off-kilter ever since the meeting with Stroud and the Inquisitor. At first she'd thought it just concern about the Blackwall issue, but he'd gotten...strange. Sniffing at her, growling at himself. Twice upstairs she'd caught him digging those sharp claws into his palms enough to make himself bleed. That's why she'd wanted to move their things as soon as possible. Something had been eating at him, and she'd wanted to fix it.

“What is it, dearest?” she'd asked, worried as they eyed one another.

He'd inhaled, his eyes flicking strangely and dilated wide, before he twisted his face and grit his teeth. “I...you are....”

“Hm?”

“You're in... _heat_ ,” he'd practically purred, face tilted her way in assessment of her body despite the armor she'd worn.

Hawke had frowned then, confused. Heat? Did he mean her cycle? She'd not bled for a bit now, most likely due to the stress of Kirkwall and hiding Bethany, then trying to get to the Inquisition. Maybe it had started working again, and he'd been able to tell before her bleeding could start. But regardless, it had been easy to see that her body, her smell, was having a serious effect on him. “Well, you can love on me later after everyone retires. I'm rather getting used to our little...routines.”

Ash had rumbled and stalked toward her, the flickered look before now settling more firmly in his gaze. “I...can't...fight it any longer.”

“Fight what, _kadan_?”

“I....” Ash had leaned into her space and licked her throat warmly. Hips had rolled, his hardness rubbing against her belly. “Your heat...has set off my rut.”

“Wait. The....” Hawke had frozen then, the word clearly defining itself for her in her dazed moment.

He'd caught her awareness and sighed. “Yes.”

“What...what happens now? Can you control anything? What do I do for you here, Ash?”

What had looked like true physical pain crossed his face, actual proof of control he couldn't hold onto any longer. “I'm sorry, _kadan_. It will be...rough. Run if you can, if you wish, but...it might.... I will...try... _ugh_!”

And with that apology he'd jerked at her chest piece so hard one of the buckles had snapped. The sounds she'd likened to bears and lions echoed around her as he'd attacked her, teeth at her neck rough and hands possessive on her body. She'd managed to slip out of his grip as he tried to shift and darted away from him. The strangeness in his eyes had brightened, and he'd almost smiled. Without knowing it, she'd triggered more instinctual behaviors. Of course, Hawke had made that realization the moment he'd licked his lips like a predator and ran for her. She'd screamed a little, but a smile had been on her face; it had been a scream of the thrill, of being pursued so hotly by one who fully intended to possess her.

She hadn't been afraid of him, of rough and instinctual sex with him. Rutting, she'd thought as she tried to evade him, was his instinctual time of breeding. She'd hoped with all the sex they'd had that it had taken the edge off, and it had certainly seemed so. He'd mellowed a lot the last week. But now he came for her with a roar, twisting with grace his size hid and managed to catch her, mouth coming down on hers with want. Hawke had kissed him, but he'd growled and bit her lip, dominating the kiss; his tongue had forced its way into her mouth and roughly possessed. In the sudden pressure, Hawke had accidentally scratched his chest with her gauntlet, digging a little in the slightly open spots between his armor.

The growl she'd gotten for it was purely sexual, yet another sign. With a smirk she'd let him ravage her mouth and used the distraction to half-undo his torso armor. It hung down off of him suddenly in a shrugging move, and he'd jerked back, looking down and then back up at her with a bloody grin. He'd grabbed for her after stripping mostly out of it, but she'd taken the second to leap away. Another charge and he had caught her, lifting her and gripping her against his body, rubbing his erection to her thigh and stomach. A snarl had ripped from him, a demand almost lost in the sound for her to _submit_. Hawke had smiled at him and bit his neck as hard as she could. Ash's roar had thundered, his hips slamming against her in desperation, his hardness thicker than it had ever been. He'd growled and flung her off him briefly, detaching her like she'd been a wolf going for the kill—but a smirk had settled over his face as he'd bent, almost taunting her, palm running over himself where he very visibly stuck out against his pants. With another growl he'd tugged there, eyes narrowing on her and breath getting heavy.

Seconds later the rest of her chest armor was hanging off, her undershirt torn by his claws as he'd cornered her, one arm flinging some of her metal protection against the nearby rock and sparking it.  
  
Hawke had darted around him, watching as he'd backed up, eyes observing her with delighted challenge. Ash's body had bent slightly, his hands up and offering. With a grunt she'd taken the bait and slammed against him near the stairs, trying to push him back and dominate; a slight chuckle had escaped her as she barely moved him at all. He'd smiled, laughed roughly, and tossed her backwards, watching her easily land on her feet.  
  
Then she'd been bracing as he'd charged again, lifting her up and pinning her to one of the rock fragments that connected down from the roof of the cave; she gave a yelp of surprise that he'd stolen with another rough kiss. One hand had kept her secure, the other ripping at the sash holding his pants and leg armor up. Hawke's heart had beat fast, her own want too strong, and she'd quickly helped him, jerking the fabric until the knot came undone; his pants had slid down just enough for him to pop out, large and throbbing. With a tight yank on her own leggings, he'd bared her and buried to the hilt, growling into her throat as he bit down and thrust, slow and harsh.

Grunts of pain, groans of pleasure. Those had been the last sounds she remembered most as he'd fucked her right against the rock, cracking her head against it once when she'd protested a little. Her armor that was still on had gripped her too tightly; thus the knots and bands of leather and buckles were fully _digging_ into her spine. He'd taken it as a mark against him, a defiance instead of submission, and so she'd gotten her head racked once. Hawke had managed to shake the dizziness from the hit, then actually leaned forward and smacked her forehead as hard as she dared to his brow, teeth going for his neck, her body clenching around him as her orgasm hit. He'd let go of her throat, mouth a bit bloody and roared again, this time with absolute pleasure as he slammed into her and came.

Barely seconds later of her catching her breath, he took her to the fur she'd started to unroll and fucked her there, flesh bruising as he pushed her through two more orgasms before he broke again with an almost low howl.

Ash now leaned into her touch, letting her stroke down his hair and brush his jaw. Hawke impatiently tugged on his chin until he lifted his head back and let her kiss him with slow, long kisses meant to soothe and seduce. Her arms settled around his neck, holding him close as they kissed, his hands gentle on her shoulder and ribs. Eventually he sighed and backed off, resting his heavy head next to hers on the fur. His weight was extremely restricting on top of her, his arms just slightly taking the pressure off so as to not completely crush her.

Hawke felt absolutely sated, and, at least for the moment, so did he seem to be. Ash's warm breath fluttered her hair against her neck. She turned her face, nose rubbing his and eyes staring deeply at one another. “Hey, you,” she whispered. “You okay?”

He stared into her, swallowing. Inside of her he twitched once, making her moan a bit. Ash stroked her cheek. “You...trusted me, didn't run. Teased me, even in rut. Some would call you foolish, a human with a death wish.”

“You wanted to fuck me, not kill me.”

“Yes, but...accidents have happened before. A female once took flesh from me in a rut. I nearly killed another when she was too dominate and we challenged over it.”

“Oh. Maker.” Hawke paled a little, but shook it off before it could ruin her confidence. “Well. What do you call me, Ash?”

A smile came to life on his face. “Brave. Selfless. Giving.”

“Much nicer things.”

“Indeed. Without... _knowing_ , you understand.” She moved her stiff hips a little, and he grunted. “Still, _kadan_.”

“But the buckle's in my back,” she complained, feeling it dig in deeper. Instantly she was lifted forward. Hawke thanked him and shrugged completely out of the remainder of her armor, sighing in relief as she rested back down. “Much better.”

He closed his deep eyes, breath blowing her bangs a little across her forehead. Hawke smiled at him. His breathing had slowed, evened out, but he was still somewhat hard inside of her, even if he'd softened a very fair amount.

“Love?”

“Mm?” he rumbled, eyes still closed peacefully.

“Plan on staying in much longer?”

Ash moved slightly to get more comfortable, but kept his eyes closed, obviously exhausted. Hawke found it absolutely endearing. She studied his beautiful face while he spoke softly. “I do not leave yet.”

“What?”

“It is...instinctual to succumb to sleep while connected.”

Dark golden brows rose in surprise as she looked down, trying to see past his huge body over hers. Maker, the man was made of fire, he was so warm. She dropped her head back down, blinking. “So...what more will happen?”

“This for the next day or two,” he sighed, barely able to speak the words. “We...will...mate several times. Sleep like this until the instinct calms for me to withdraw. It allows the seed to take better.”

“ _Oh._ Well. Um. You...you gonna be all aggressive again?”

“Yes.”

“Instinct stuff?”

“The rut, yes.”

“This is intense. So that's why the Qun is strict about how it goes.” Hawke settled, trying to get a little more comfortable as he kept her stretched. “How often will this happen?”

He didn't answer her for a few moments, then grunted, left arm shifting over her a little. “Seasons. Twice a year, if not denied. But...it may change with our...frequency together. Lessen in severity. I have not had such access to a female before to know the changes. Being breeding stock is different.”

“Maker, no wonder you got so grouchy toward the end of being holed up in Kirkwall,” Hawke surmised, twisting her lips to the side in slight amusement. Her fingers stroked his handsome face. “Poor thing. You should have just told me you needed a good fuck. We could have worked out both our tensions. After our kiss, I thought about that...you know. But I figured you'd take my head if I even uttered a suggestion.”

A gravelly snort was his response.

She thought about it all for a while as his breathing completely evened and calmed, fingers possessing her arm some like his cock inside of her. He'd softened a bit more, but was still rather erect. Hawke sighed, getting used to it somewhat. “Are there...things to...make sure this isn't always successful? I know Bull said it's not easy for us to conceive anyway, rutting being the most likely way it'd ever happen, but...you know. I can't be pregnant all the time, not even for your ego.”

Silence, then a very tired, “Yes. Herbs made into tea and potions. The healers had them.”

“Guess we'd better have at least one Qunari contact like us enough to supply.” No reply. Just quiet breathing. Hawke smiled to herself and leaned forward, kissing his cheek bone, brushing his jaw. A few more fluttered kisses to his lips. “Rest well, my love.”

Her eyes closed and she slowly drifted off, only waking a little when he pulled her closer despite his weight over her. He'd softened enough to start sliding out of her, slightly sticky come lightly easing out a little. Hawke sighed at the release of tension inside of her and tightened an arm around his side, fingers splayed over his back.

“ _Kadan_ ,” he breathed, eyes closed and nose against her cheek tightly. Hawke took in easy, nice breaths, barely aware as his lips brushed her jaw. “You are loved.”

 


	13. Little Viddathari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric can relax, at least after Hawke pushes him off the horse again; Ash gets a surprisingly thoughtful gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

 

They emerged on the fourth morning.

Varric had struggled with sleeping, drinking, even lost at Wicked Grace so badly the scouts themselves who'd played with him were wondering what was wrong. He'd just been...worried. Seriously worried. As fucked up as it was, the occasional roar they'd heard had been reassuring. It at least meant Hawke was still alive down there, taking Andraste-knew-what for love. He had to hand it to her—that was some devotion.

So when the door had struggled against the camouflaged barricade Bull had set up, Varric had shot awake in the very early dawn hours. Bull's eye was already on the movements as the door stilled. There was some murmuring on the other side, but Bull moved before the former Arishok could burst through the blockage. They obviously heard the movements, the freeing of the door, and when the Qunari finished helping and backed away in the quiet morning while others slept on, the door slowly creaked open.

Varric wasn't sure what he'd expected. A bloody Hawke with bruises all over her face? Broken limbs? Black eyes and a toothless smile? But she was none of those things. Hawke carefully stepped out of the room, armored hand holding onto the nearby wall. Varric quickly moved to her, letting her rest her weight over his shoulder and walked her to his chair. Slowly she sank down, wincing. His eyes drank in her face and found no marks, save a slight scratch or two. Her cheeks were a bit red, breathing a little too deep, and it was obvious she was very stiff and probably very bruised under her armor.

He looked over his shoulder as Ash stepped out, their packed belongings in his hands dropping near the wine casket Bull had relocated. Both Inquisition allies watched the giant bend, rifle through one pack, and walk to Hawke. Those weird gold-rimmed eyes bent low over her, scanning, and then he gave her some fruit and a biscuit. Hawke took them without protest, chewing into the apple. A wineskin full of water was delicately placed in her lap. Varric watched Ash sniff her brow, graze his nose there, then step away as if satisfied. Had Hawke gotten sick down there in the wet cave? She'd mentioned having a cold after the pair had gotten to Crestwood because of the blasted rain.

“You all right?” Varric gently asked, hand on her arm. He could see one of the straps connecting to her shoulder was torn and needed repaired. The metal on her chest piece was a bit scratched up, too.

Hawke looked down to him and smiled softly. Instantly Varric felt the worry slide off by at least half. “I'm fine. Just....”

“A tender chicken that got plucked for cooking?”

“More or less, and that's after some...massages,” Hawke snickered. Her brown eyes watched Ash as he drank from a different wineskin of theirs and tossed his head back, looking around.

Varric climbed up on a barrel next to her. “You're lucky. We were about to leave your ass behind. Mayor's been found, and Maker, was the Inquisitor furious.”

“I'd imagine. Gregory probably had his reasons, thinking he was saving more by doing what he did, but...it was barbaric. Many innocents and some not even ill were drowned, too,” Hawke whispered, a tad angry. Varric knew such things drove her nuts, reminded her of how bad Kirkwall had gotten.

“So, Ash. Feel better?” Varric asked the big gray man, trying to lighten the mood.

Ash glanced down to him impressively, then over at Hawke. The pair's eyes locked in some shared moment of reflection before the Qunari silently nodded.

“Good,” Varric smiled and sighed on the barrel. “Once we...heard some rough noises, we made sure to bar the door. Keep you guys isolated.”

Hawke chuckled under her breath. “Varric.”

“What? Bull said it could be dangerous if a scout accidentally went in.”

Ash stared at Varric's Qunari pal with what looked like clear respect. His horns tilted as he angled his face and rested his back against the door. “Smart of you.”

“Hey, it's been a fucking while, but I've been there. I remember.”

“You've not rutted in much time?”

“Nope,” Bull affirmed, yanking a chair to sit down near them with his back to the fire that still flamed up. “Never ended up with true selection for breeding stock. Too busy on other assignments. So I used the specialists and Healers, then...others once I got into my last work. Taverns are fun, and humans are flexible. I'm sure you're finding that, yourself—that last part.”

Hawke about spit water from her wineskin. Ash raised a brow, smirking.

“But you? I bet yours was once like seasons, forced into pattern. Routine.”

Hawke bit her lip after swallowing some water. “Apparently there was more than one reason he was so moody in Kirkwall.”

Varric tried not to laugh, unsure of the giant's reaction as Ash stared her down with a sneer. Then, as if the annoyance hadn't crossed his face, he shrugged. “You failed to realize hints. I am not at fault for your ignorance.”

“Oh, good one,” Hawke teased back, not offended at all. “We both know you were too proud to drop me hints for _that_. You'd rather have held out and glared at me for daring to make it worse with my interest. But the other? Yeah. We had our conversations.”

The Qunari tilted his face back, expression one of evaluation as he looked over Hawke. Then a slow smile lifted the left corner of his mouth once. “Very good, Hawke.”

“Uh, what?” Varric asked in mild confusion. What the hell was Ash talking about? Or Hawke?

Hawke finished her biscuit with a sigh. “ _Someone_ wanted me to convert, Varric. Get me protection and certain...status...for things to be able to happen. Like easing that _special_ frustration without worry.”

“Her reputation from working with you in Kirkwall, let alone her own accomplishments, would have put her with rogue movements. Maybe even have snagged her a unique Healer position if she wanted between roles if managed right...though getting yourself into it would have been difficult,” Bull inferred as he stared at Ash. “That's...some planning.”

“He tried thinking about it, but he had a temper and I had duty he didn't agree with. Still, it all worked out.” Hawke grinned at Ash's discomfort. “Besides, if they'd tried to set me up with any other male....”

“Oh shit,” Bull smirked.

Varric smiled as he saw Ash's eyes tighten and a low rumble of a growl barely broke his control. “I gotta ask—what the hell did you like about Hawke? She's so...nosy and pushy and whatnot. I mean, she's cute, but there's so many _little_ things to drive you crazy, right?”

“You _little_ arse,” Hawke grumbled, thumping his head.

“Ow!”

Ash rumbled with a little bit of a laugh, watching Hawke with a smile in his eyes. “She is annoying and tiny, but just as fierce and understanding, able to be observant in ways most _bas_ aren't. Not much wisdom or respect of the Qun outside of Qunari, but she had it in force. I saw... _potential_ in Hawke. Her...spirit, her beauty, is enticing.”

“Thank you, dearest. I think you enjoy annoying and tiny, Ash,” Hawke offered with a slow grin. “My very sore, very satisfied body says so.”

The big Qunari grunted and looked away. “There are...other acceptable factors. Your...tongue, when not wagging ridiculously in speech is...useful.”

“Mm- _hm_. Typical man, no matter the species.”

Bull snickered. Varric laughed at the bare inference and sipped the rest of his tea, just damn glad Hawke was okay after everything. “Didn't try to make it worse, did you? 'Cause that's just mean.”

“What? He likes a challenge.”

“Breeding Qunari usually do,” Bull nodded in agreement. “Though it can certainly backfire, if the pair are both too dominate.”

Hawke shrugged and rubbed her legs, working the stiffness there. “I don't mind playing with dominance, but I...am not so stupid to think I can get someone more than twice my size to submit on a constant basis—nor would I want to.”

“Wise,” Bull smiled.

“Eh, it's fine once in a while. Helps when people have too much control and need a break. But it's also fun to submit—let go, let someone else take control.”

Ash shook his head at Hawke's words, noticing the clear grin on her face. “You say so and did not submit to the Qun.”

“Hey. I submitted to _you_ , which is close enough.”

Varric almost spit his tea. “Damn, Hawke.”

She spread her hands. “What? He practically _was_ the Qun.”

“You know, she isn't wrong,” Bull teased, obviously enjoying Hawke's ease. “Not even technically.”

For his part Ash smirked, his lips twitching upward just enough to see. “Little _viddathari_.”

“For you?” Hawke winked at Ash, whose smile only widened as she spoke. “Yes. I'm your _viddathari_. Maker, you're good at everything.”

“That is the way,” Ash agreed, snorting as she rolled her eyes and laughed at him.

“Maker, Hawke, I know a lot about you, but _this_ might be pushing it,” Varric laughed, hugging his dear friend as she slung an arm carefully about his shoulders and squeezed.

Bull mildly tilted his face, clearly debating a question. The rest noticed, but Ash nodded for the other Qunari to speak. “Just curious if you guys went old tradition or not.”

“On what?” Hawke asked, completely lost. “Rutting?”

Varric grinned as Bull, for _once,_ looked awkward and flustered. “Uh. No. The...necklace.”

“There...was never opportunity. For us, acknowledgment was enough,” Ash replied, confusing both Varric and Hawke, who each looked to one another for information. That made Ash sigh quietly. “Hawke, there is old Qunari tradition to gift _kadan_ , in particular those with...romantic connotations, with necklace, each half made from a single tooth of the _atashii._ ”

“Yeah. It...links the pair no matter the distance between them, or roles they're moved to.”

Hawke blinked a little at both Qunari explanations, clearly thinking about the idea, while Varric smiled. “Next time we fight a dragon, I'll save you guys a tooth.”

That got his best friend to smile. “Varric, that's...sweet.”

“Unnecessary, yet...worth acceptance,” Ash added, looking down at him intensely before switching his gaze to Hawke. “We are...beyond _kadan_ in many ways.”

Bull snorted, crossing his arms in a relaxed pose. “ _That_ is true. Never seen anything like this before. Not that it's bad. Just...weird.”

“It is strange,” Ash murmured in agreement.

“It's love. You love a little _bas_ , and I love a giant,” Hawke joked and reached for the wineskin of water. “Everything about us is defiant.”

Ash snickered under his breath, Bull nodding next to him with a slight smile. “If only you could truly see how much.”

 

 

[-----------------------------]

 

 

 

Days of travel. The group was rather large, though they'd left behind a very big amount of people to man the keep they'd taken, the camps the Inquisition had established to watch for rifts and Red Templars. Horses carried people, brontos carried supplies, and one giant white hart carried the elf at the head of it. Ash had to admit it was an impressive display, and something he missed having behind him. The power of it was feeding, glory demanding it.

Hawke chattered away with the dwarf on the mount next to hers. She'd laughed loudly as she'd helped her friend up on the taller beast, and the muscular dwarf had tossed her a rude gesture once he'd settled and not gone over the other side...a second time. As strange as Varric was, as their close friendship was in some ways, Ash...had grown to like the little man. Wittiness was always appreciated.

“So it got down to Ruffles and Curly, and Ruffles nails his card. I mean bad. Took everything Cullen had put on the table. Poor bastard lost his clothes and made a run for it back to the barracks, buck naked while the rest of us left ahead of him. Dorian had joked, of course, about staying for the show, but Cullen yelled until we all left.”

“Maker, the poor man.”

Varric chuckled with a sigh. “We do put him through a lot. Shit, I don't know how he didn't break in Kirkwall.”

“Him? What about us?” Hawke asked, almost incredulous. She glanced sideways to Ash and reached out, bumping his arm a little. He smiled, shaking his head.

Her dwarf friend snorted. “True. So much could have gone even worse.”

“You got that right.” Hawke shivered a little under her fur cloak.

The entire party was nearing Skyhold, finally. Ash didn't complain at the cold of the mountains, but he didn't _like_ it. Not at all. He never shuddered, just readjusted his shoulders under his own gorgeous cloak. Ash couldn't believe the amount of sovereigns she'd paid for it, just to outfit him and give him a gift. He'd never had personal spending money. Anything he needed for his role was given. Anything he had to do or wanted to do involved the Qun. So he had no position to gain money to provide with her. He grunted as he thought about it, but then considered how many were paid in gold and had never hunted. How many had never watched a farmer work or learned what they needed to protect them. He'd done these things. He'd provided for Hawke and himself during their trek to Crestwood alone. They'd done well together.

Satisfied with the conclusion, he stayed quiet as the group began the walk up the path to the bridge of the hold. It took another hour or so before they got close enough to slim down into two lines and cross the bridge and through the hold's gates. Trumpets greeted their arrival, soldiers and scouts lining up to salute. A nice little touch, but not necessarily impressive. Ash worked his mount toward the stables, eyeing Hawke as she snickered something at her friend and followed the mounted line as he did. Once they got down, Ash took their personal packs and supplies, wanting to keep anything they used away from where traitorous hands could touch.

They brushed over the two horses, trying to help the stable master and his hands in dealing with the sudden influx of animals. The black stallion bumped its muzzle into his large palm, whites of its eyes rolling a little as it looked up at him. It was a good horse. Strong, willing to submit to the right order. Ash stroked down the muzzle, then patted its side.

“Ever have a pet?”

He turned at the question as a stable hand came and took the lead on the stallion, leading it to its stall. Hawke was smiling at him, like she'd caught him stealing sweets or some such human nonsense. “No.”

“Aw. No wonder you're so cute with him.”

His upper lip raised in a sneer as he turned his back to her, lifting most of their supplies. Hawke grinned and worked her way to him and picked up the rest. A servant appeared and directed them to the same room they had occupied before, the one further inside and deep in the hold. Ash liked that consistency. They settled the belongings down, watching as the servant struggled to get the flint to light easily and get the fire going. Ash bent, took the items from the servant and ignored the man's gasp. With a flick of his thumb claw, sparks shot out onto the wood and brush. He flicked it twice more and the fire started.

The servant hesitantly thanked him, then announced dinner would be ready within the hour. Hawke graciously thanked the man, who left blushing. Ash glanced at her, clearly annoyed.

“What? The friendlier we are, the more they'll defend us, watch over us. Always treat your servants well. They're the ones who take care of you most and know your secrets.”

“You had servants in that...mansion.”

“Yep. Bodhan and his son, two dwarves. And then Orana, an elf we rescued from Tevinter slavers. I gave her a job, and it took her a while to understand the...differences.” Hawke sighed and collapsed rather unladylike against the bed, burying her face in the covers that been obviously laundered since their last stay. “I miss home. I miss my bed. I miss those damn servants, bless them. Wasn't home without hearing 'Enchantment!' as I got in.”

Ash had _no_ idea what she was going on about. He'd barely heard the words, his eyes too focused on her round ass in the air. He stepped forward, listening to the crackle of the fire as it got stronger while she kept ranting about missing her bathtub and some sort of cream pies. Large gray hands settled over her ass, instantly shutting her up. Good. Ash grunted as he gripped the handfuls of flesh, loving that part of her, before one hand slid up her back, claws lightly digging in, while the other hand slid down underneath her front and cupped her sex through her pants.

Hawke mewled softly at his touch. He loved that sound. It was a sound only he could hear, only he could get her to make. It was his alone. Ash gripped her hips in his palms and pulled her backwards a little on her knees, his hardness grinding into her. She moaned again and rubbed against him purposefully. A hiss caught in his teeth as he tried not to growl loudly. Even after rutting, he was _still_ so damn wanting. It was not something he understood—this unleashing, this freedom. Normally after a rutting he was so sated that he didn't even need a healer for sometimes weeks, easily thrown into work and order and almost celibate in thought, yet here he was still semi-fresh from a recent rut and wanting _more_. Change was indeed coming with their relationship. He took a big breath and thrust against her, debating how fast he could strip them both.

The sudden knock at the door had him gritting his teeth and digging his claws into her hips. Hawke grunted in surprise and darted out of his hands, running around him to the door. Ash's empty hands twitched like his cock as he sat down on the bed and tried to regain control.

She opened the door, grinning largely as the female elf who'd tended them last time appeared with another basket and towels, two servants behind her carrying water. “We thought you'd like to bathe now and relax from travel.”

“Lumia, darling, you are a blessing.”

The elf smiled gently at Hawke and gave the go ahead for the others to dump the steaming water in the tub. They left, Hawke shutting the door behind them with thanks as she rooted around in the basket. A cackle burst out of her. “Oh, love?”

“What?” he snapped, waiting on himself to soften. She still smelled damn _good_ since the rutting, and it drove him fucking crazy. Literally.

She held up a small bottle, wiggling it between her fingers as she grinned. “Looky what that wonderful Ambassador got you.”

Ash frowned as she popped the topper off, and the familiar smell hit him so strongly he pulled back a bit, straightening his spine. Warm spices caught his nose, and he knew it was the mixture he often used in his Arishok days. He didn't know what deals the Antivan had made to get this, but he'd honor her by giving in return somehow.

“Mm. It smells _just like you did_. I mean, you still smell like you, just without so much of _this._ Oh, Maker. I might...I might....” His brows went up as she whimpered a little. Hawke caught control of herself and nodded firmly. “I'm rubbing you with this. And then I am gonna enact one of my fantasies.”

“I...have no protests,” he said, smirking a little as he walked to her, taking the bottle and sighing at the smell. The familiarity of it was so rooting, so centering, despite the undertones of sadness in his mind over it. He'd felt...slightly invalid without this nearly ritualistic item he'd always used in his life. With a sniff of it again, he gave her a sidelong, measuring look. “Which fantasy is this?”

“The one where I grab your horns and take you for a real ride. After that, you get to tie me up.”

Ash frowned, annoyed as he first imagined her on his back for a moment like a mount before he realized she meant _riding_ him, her hands on his horns for stability while she sought completion. And the idea of tying her up and being in full control...was... _enticing._ A low, deep chuckle streamed from him, a smug smirk on his face that easily slid into a full grin at her smile.

“I love your laugh. Your smile. They're like...these wonderful secrets I get to know.” Hawke sat the basket down and took his hand. “Come. Bathe me. Then prepare yourself, my love. Consider this _my_ rut.”

Ash moved quickly, tackling into her and lifting her up so her legs would wrap around his waist, growling happily as he attacked her neck with fervor against the wall by the fireplace.

 

 


	14. Inclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric wonders, as he always does, just what the hell Hawke may or may not be up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

The Inquisitor, Hawke, and the Advisers, along with Blackwall and Stroud, had sealed themselves in the War Room for most of the morning and afternoon, planning ahead for all that could end up happening in the Western Approach. Bull and Varric didn't know much about it. The rest of the party was still pretty involved in their own matters: Solas meditated and wrote, Vivienne brought gossip news, Sera's people took down yet another snotty noble, and Dorian alternated between research on Alexius's amulet and magic and going down with Varric to watch Bull spar with the former Arishok. Even Cole had briefly appeared to watch before leaving.

It was a hell of a match. Varric's jaw dropped, and it wasn't the only one. Several people had slowly crept over, a few at a time, to watch. It had all started because Ash had seemed twitchy, so Bull had offered a good sparring.

With an almost too easy acceptance, they'd walked into the ring.

“Too small. Not dug. No beams.”

“It's not made for _us_ ,” Bull said and took his big war ax off his back.

Varric watched Ash glance around, then slide both of his weapons off his holsters, flipping them in his fingers as he waited quietly, eyes assessing as Bull's eye did. The first hit had created sparks. Bull had swung, catching Ash's ax, but the separate sword had come up and easily deflected, freeing both axes. Metal clashed on metal repeatedly, crunching and screeching for a while. It was fascinating: Bull had his own movement set—heavy and low, yet lighter on his feet than his size betrayed, all while using his width to his advantage.   
  
The ex-Arishok, however, was almost a dancer. Varric remembered more of the fight with Hawke as he watched the two men move, seeing that big red armor gloriously decorating Ash back then with all his other adornments. He'd moved like water on his feet, massive, but slick enough to keep up with Hawke's very speedy and sneaky moves, able to duck and twist and bend faster than a bloody snake. Ash was so fast, coming in hard and leaving bodies behind in how he struck, at least Varric would imagine so. Hawke had mentioned the bandits they'd fought when they got to Crestwood, ones roaming, and Ash had torn them apart without a problem.

Varric didn't want to imagine what it must have been like to have seen the huge Qunari raising his weapons as the last image in life.

They kept up a good pace with the weapons, but it was hard to keep it fair. Their styles were too different, and Bull started to struggle with the pacing Ash set. So Ash called a stop, sat his weapons against the wall, and came forward with his big fists. Bull seemed to like that and quickly dropped his ax, taking a blow from Ash and blocking the second follow up.

Dorian sauntered up, brows risen as he stood next to where Varric had climbed to sit and watch. “Maker, look at them. Such brute forces.”

“Neat, though. They really are built for certain things, aren't they?”

“Oh yes. So many muscles.”

“Sparkles, you slay me.” Varric grinned, then winced as Bull missed his step and caught a nasty punch to the jaw. The Qunari spit out blood and charged back, breaking Ash's defense and getting the taller giant in the side; Ash growled loudly, but grinned almost terrifyingly. Varric shook his head, whispering under his breath, “Maker, Hawke, how do you handle _that_?”

“Oh, so it's true? Damn.” Dorian sighed and stroked his mustache. “Well, good for her. Must be quite the experience.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. They're...together. It's serious. I still don't know how, but it is.”

“I shall try to reign in the comments about his amazing arse, then. Or those abs. Maker, _look_ at him! Lucky girl.”

“Dorian.”

Dorian chuckled and rested his chin on a board. “It's freeing to be able to speak so without guard.”

“I can imagine, friend.” Varric had been down right _horrified_ to hear the truth about what Dorian's own father had tried to do to him with blood magic once. Change him, his preferences, make him a zombie almost, just for status.

“Well, if Bull would do me a favor and decide if we're going to pick up on this flirting thing, it would be nice.”

“Honestly, I think he digs you. He's just...too stand-offish in a lot of ways. Left over from training, probably. Think about it.”

“True. Oh, ouch!”

Crunching sounds echoed in the arena as the two Qunari knocked their heads together, laughing. Each braced their weight, pushing to see which would back down first. Bull had more weight and a broader frame to brace himself, the former Arishok had more muscles and strength. It was a bit of a stalemate. After a couple of minutes of grunting, Ash managed to make a good shove, and Bull stumbled backward, chuckling.

“Got me,” Bull said, shrugging. “Nice fight.”

“Yes.” Ash bent and collected his weapons, checking them before sliding them into their holsters.

Bull grabbed his ax, mirrored the other Qunari, and walked over to them. “Varric. Dorian. Hope you weren't betting.”

“Nope. Good show, though,” the dwarf said supportive.

Dorian trailed his eyes over Bull with a sigh. “As I said—so many muscles.”

“They need rubbed,” Bull slyly began. “They're sore.”

“That so?” Dorian teased with a handsome smile. “Ever had a massage with some magic?”

Bull thought a moment while Varric whistled and hopped off his post to give them privacy. He saw Ash moving back toward the main hall, no doubt going for Hawke. “Hey, Ash!”

The big gray giant stopped and looked down at him. “Mm?”

“As weird as it is to say...it's good seeing you fight again.”

“Hawke has had similar sentiments.”

Varric smiled and crossed his arms, foot kicking the grass under him. “Doesn't surprise me. Bring Hawke to the tavern later. Got a game set up, good ale.”

“If she...desires.” Ash gave him a curt nod, his face blank before his eyes scanned the area once and went back on his set path.

 

 

[------------------------------]

 

 

“So if we can talk this ally down, perhaps we can avoid the bloodshed. Have a back up plan nonetheless for the fortress, of course.” Hawke tossed in a silver. “Hopefully it goes smoothly.”

Murmured agreements around the table, followed by some grunts and groans. Dorian sat near Bull, not touching, though there was an obvious air of _something_ going on. Sera giggled maniacally upstairs, scaring the piss out of them. Ash grunted at his cards. “This is...stupid.”

“Don't knock it just because you're losing,” Hawke teased him, elbow rubbing his.

They'd tried teaching the Qunari the card game, one he'd never seen, but heard of. He described some different ones, tile and coin games and a similar card game that Bull recalled fondly. A half an hour later, Hawke lost her hand and rose to get another pint for herself. Varric smiled, watching as she worked her way around soldiers and scouts and workers until she could get to the bar. Ash's eyes flicked up to her and back to his cards to make a move. It was cute, Varric thought. Seemed like the big man really did love Hawke.

Varric's best friend returned to the table with a large cup of water and a plate of food. He chuckled. “Thought you were getting a pint.”

“Made me feel sick. I'm hungry.” Hawke tossed in another silver and chewed on some bread and cheese. Varric sneaked a roll off the plate, eating it right next to her oblivious self.

And again Ash's eyes watched Hawke as he folded his hand.

By the time the next round was ready, Hawke was grunting, her fingers skirting the now empty plate. “Thought I got more than this.”

“Uh, nope,” Varric said.

Dorian smiled. “Well, you know. We've all been sneaking from it, darling.”

“Bunch of grabby bastards,” Hawke laughed, shook her head and went back up to the bar. This time she returned with some fruits and a cream thing. She dipped the berries and chewed on them, moaning exaggeratedly at the sweet taste of the sauce. “Oh, Maker.”

They all laughed a little, Dorian raising a brow. “I might not favor it, but you have a wonderful moan, you know.”

“Oh, I know. _He_ favors it well.” Hawke winked at Ash, who had _clearly_ gotten uncomfortable. She picked up a berry, swirled it in the cream, and held it out to the Qunari. He eyed it, unsure. “Trust me, it's delicious.”

Ash grunted and took the berry, tossing it into his mouth and chewing it down. He shrugged. “Too sweet.”

“Love, you ate it wrong! You have to _savor_ it. You savor it, the sweetness combines with the sour.” Hawke swirled another berry after she played a card and handed it toward him. “Try again.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Snickers echoed around the table; one of Bull's men, the dwarf named Rocky, snorted into his cup. Ash eyed the damn fruit with a glare and took it, chewing it slower this time. He shrugged again, though not with as much care. Hawke sighed, waited until a few of the players got up for refills, and handed him a clean berry. Varric watched Ash stare at it in mild confusion, then Hawke with suspicion. Hawke swirled the tip of her finger in the cream and licked it off, then leaned forward. She popped the berry in Ash's mouth, let him chew a second, then kissed him, cream-tipped tongue disappearing behind his lips.

Varric bit his lip, trying hard not to laugh. Hawke could get a bit forward after she'd drank. She'd licked Fenris's ear once, making the elf turn completely red before he realized she was out of it and had fallen asleep on him. But Hawke wasn't drunk now. It was a little odd.

Ash closed his eyes and kissed her back, big hand cupping her smaller head easily. Bull and Dorian took their seats again, brows up. “Well, we were missing the show,” Dorian sighed sadly as Hawke pulled back from the kiss.

The Qunari opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

“ _Now_ did you savor it and see?” Hawke asked, her voice almost purring in its teasing tone. Ash blinked, sniffed a second and looked amused. He nodded a little, satisfying Hawke. She leaned back and got new cards, whistling happily under her breath.

They played another hand before Hawke suddenly tired and decided to go to bed early. Ash's eyes hadn't left her since the berry kiss, though Varric hadn't blamed him for it. The behavior had been a bit...weird. When the pair left for the night, Hawke's hand gentle on the big arm next to her, Bull let out a low whistle. “Oh boy. She's up to something. Let's hope he can handle it.”

Varric grinned and dragged the winnings his way as his last pair trumped the rest. “The worst she can do is make his eyes cross when she racks his horns against the headboard.”

 


	15. The Emerald Graves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes.   
> Also, Cass the Badass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

Hawke was getting so tired of traveling. She missed her house in Kirkwall, missed stability. Missed her bed, her favorite pastry shop...her friends. The sadness washed over her as the large party continued westward, skirting the Emprise du Lion and going through the tip of the Emerald Graves. The plan was to go under the Exalted Plains and straight west into the Approach to save time, not unlike her Crestwood plan.

They set up camp near an already established Inquisition camp in the Graves. Hawke was a bit surprised to see just how _far_ and fast the reach of the organization had grown. She sighed to herself, wishing Merrill was here, chatting away about the birds or the deer. Or Fenris, scowling. Or Aveline chastising her. Or even Isabela elbowing her for details on her sex with Ash.

“What bothers you?”

Hawke jumped at his sudden gravelly voice behind her and knocked her head against the tent pole. “Ouch!”

A graceful snort, then the tent straightened above her, setting properly. Hawke rubbed her head and backed out of it. Ash had taken off his upper armor to relax a little. His gorgeous muscles looked beautiful in the light of the evening, the little buzzing insects lighting around. She fought the urge to tackle him into the tent and fuck him right then and there. What was _with_ her lately? It was like she couldn't control it anymore, and they did more or less have sex every night if possible. And lately, also if possible, it was more than once a night. Maybe it was still a need buried so long that it was too strong to be satiated from their reunion since. Maybe she was about to have her bleeding and her hormones were wacky. Maybe that was it. But her bleeding should have come by now, or so she'd thought.

Ash smiled and snapped his fingers, getting her attention. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bed roll, tossing it into the tent. “Hawke. What has bothered you?”

“Just...miss things. Miss home. Miss people.” She got her roll stretched out, reached for his and took it from him as he extended it. Hawke sighed, happy as the bed was made and the bear furs were brought out.

“I see.”

“I wish you'd gotten to see other sides of things in Kirkwall. The good people.”

Ash shrugged, watching other tents popping up nearby. “I saw the truth of it.”

Hawke sighed, letting the subject go as her stomach growled. “Damn it. Throw me some rations.”

“They will serve dinner from the hunt soon.”

“But I'm hungry now.” Hawke caught the jerky and slice of cheese tossed her way, smiling. One mouthful later, she groaned. “Better.”

“Are you well?”

“Just been hungry. I think the travel routines are annoying my stomach.”

“Very likely.” Ash finished unpacking and brought their things into the tent, then checked on the horses tied nearby as they grazed.

The black stallion greeted him kindly, making her smile. “He really took to you.”

“He has found order and trust.”

“Indeed.” Hawke finished the food he'd given her, stomach still feeling empty. “What are they serving?”

“Druffalo and blue ram. Other dishes I did not know.”

Hawke pouted. “Damn. Fish sounds good.”

“Fish?” Ash chuckled a little, stoking their small personal fire. “Why fish?”

“I dunno. Just sounds...mm. Good. Smoked on the fire. Ooh.”

Ash strode over, put a hand on her face, and pushed her backward until she fell onto the furs. She shook her face to clear her hair from it and stared at him as if he were crazed. Her love grinned. “Rest. You're getting cranky.”

“You dare.”

“You do not frighten me, Hawke.”

“Then I've clearly failed at something.”

Ash laughed and left the tent, walking away. Hawke grumbled under her breath about him for five minutes before she passed out, in armor, face down on the furs. What felt like ages later, a firm large hand shook her awake. It had darkened some outside, but not too heavily. Singing and talking could be heard nearby from where the main fire and tents were. Hawke hadn't been as interested to go hang out there without Varric or Bull; both had stayed behind to keep an eye on things. Varric was also still searching for information on the contracts.

Hawke sniffed, a smell catching her nose and making her mouth water. She slowly climbed her stiff self out of the tent, stretched upward, and dropped her jaw. Ash was sitting next to their small fire, turning a spit with three large fish on it. They'd even been descaled. Her heart caught at the sweet gesture, and she walked up behind him, bending and rubbing her nose in his neck. “You are generous,” she whispered with love. “I adore you.”

“As you should,” he grunted, but turned his face and kissed her. “Come. It should be ready. Grab anything else you want from that tin. The Inquisitor brought it for you.”

Hawke jumped up curiously and moved for the small metal plate. She lifted the top, sighing with happiness. Inside was some rice, a little bowl of Orlesian soup, and rolls warmed over a fire. On the side were some berries. She blushed, recalling how forward she'd gotten in the tavern with the berry and her kiss on Ash. Just a mood, she supposed. “We can share this with the fish.”

“Keep most of it. I will take some of the rice and a roll. You can have the largest fish with the rest.”

They ate in companionable silence, enjoying the evening. The forests were absolutely _beautiful_ here. So green, so lush. They just demanded she stare and appreciate. August rams darted around, playful with one another. Hawke smiled as she ate her fish, watching them.

“It is sufficient?” he asked softly as he finished off his dinner.

Hawke dropped her eyes to him. Ash had stretched out next to the fire, propped on one arm and his side. His long hair had trickled over his neck and down his chest. The firelight reflected in his eyes. Her mouth went dry just looking at him. “More than sufficient,” she finally said, blushing a little.

He gave her a strange look before shaking it off. The fish bones next to him had been picked clean.

“I have to ask. How'd you catch them?”

Ash looked at her like she'd changed shape. “With my hands.”

“Wow. Was it difficult? We use poles and bait. Or nets.”

“Unnecessary. It requires simple patience.”

“Not all of us have your big strong hands to make sure the fish don't wriggle away.”

He shifted on the ground, sitting up with one knee bent. Hawke smiled as he considered her a moment, then tossed his head a little. Hawke ate her last berry and walked over. “Yes, love?”

“Sit,” he ordered and pulled her down to his lap. Hawke got comfortable, her back to his chest and her head resting against his throat. His left arm kept him propped while his right one caught around her waist, his hand brushing her stomach and stroking there gently.

They sat in quiet that was only disturbed by the occasional laugh or shout as the sky darkened more. Ash stoked the fire, kept it just big enough for their needs. It wasn't long before Hawke fell asleep again, this time getting carried into the tent where she was gently stripped down and tucked into bed.

A few hours later all hell broke loose. Guards on watch duty started shouting, warning horns blaring, all of it waking the entire camp. Hawke had jolted awake at the nearby noise, heart racing. Ash shot up next to her, his hand tightening on her belly. Immediately they parted, both grabbing for their armor and yanking it on as quickly as possible. Metal clashing made Hawke curse. She finished first, running out with her daggers, eyes searching the area.

It looked like a group of mercenaries had attacked the northeast part of the camp, across from them. Hawke searched, trying to identify the enemy, but their armor held no sigil. The second she heard Ash's weapons clang behind her, she took off running, knowing he was right behind. They found the Inquisitor himself standing up on a large tree branch, firing one arrow after another. Cassandra was on the ground below them, helping, but the small group on this side of the camp was getting quickly outnumbered.

“Who are they?” Hawke asked over the din as she darted up to the Seeker's side.

Cassandra clocked her shield into the face of one of the attackers, knocking him out cold. “Freemen,” she panted. “Deserters of the Orlesian civil war trying to claim the land for themselves. We've...fought with them here before. They're occupying the Plains and Graves some.”

“Fuckers,” Hawke grunted, turning as Ash charged headfirst into battle, knocking three of the Orlesians right out of the way with his weapon swings. Hawke picked off the ones who managed to surround the Qunari while Ash made short work of cleaving the attackers into pieces, cutting off limbs and breaking chests in two.

One knight barreled into Ash, knocking him off balance with his huge shield. Cassandra joined in their spot, arrows zinging past their heads from the elf on the tree. He nailed Ash's attacker in the shoulder, between an armor gap. The man shouted out but kept going as Ash got back up. Cassandra bashed into the shield-wielder, breaking him wide open for Ash to come forward with both weapons. Hawke paused for breath and saw him pierce the man, lifting the human feet into the air and throwing the body a far distance. He roared angrily and struck out in a circle, gaining ground, while Hawke tussled with a rogue of the Freemen that had appeared behind Cassandra.

It took over a half an hour before the fighting was finally finished. The bodies were searched for orders. Feran kept the papers to look over in his tent and ordered the soldiers to carry the bodies away and burn them with the wind taking the scent away. Ash's weapons were soaked with blood when Hawke walked up to him. He eyed her with relief, breath slowing down from its increased rate. Cassandra nodded, impressed. “Excellent fighter, your lover.”

“He would have to have been, given his previous job.”

“Ah, yes I suppose so.” Cassandra bid them hopefully a better rest of the night.

Hawke followed Ash toward the river where they cleaned their weapons off. Once they got back to camp, she crawled back onto the bed, exhausted. Ash kept the tent flap pulled back on one side, sitting up and watching. The attack had stirred his worries. “Ash...I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Sleep, _kadan_. I will wake you if need arises.”

“But.”

“Do not fight me.”

Hawke mumbled, but leaned forward to kiss his ear and collapsed back into the fur, eyes closing. Ash remained alert as her vision faded and sleep started to overcome her again. “Love you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said quietly, glancing to her with a twinkle in his eye. “ _Asit tal-eb_ , Hawke. It is the way it is meant to be.”

“You...smug...something,” she laughed and rolled over, instantly asleep.

 

 


	16. Time in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surviving in the heat requires only two things: a fucking angry Inquisitor and a Hurlock alpha of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those reading and enjoying the one-shots of this Inq and Cass will have an enjoyable spot here.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

The Inquisitor was so furious that he kicked a helm and banked it off part of the Warden architecture, sending it flying out over the sand with a scream. The rest—Stroud, Hawke, Ash, and some of the Inquisitor's companions—stared at him in mild shock. They were all sick. All infuriated. The Grey Wardens had stupidly, foolishly, _brazenly_ believed an obviously corrupt Tevinter mage could help them unlock ways to prevent a future blight by using _blood magic_ to sacrifice their warriors and bind them as demons for their tainted mages.

It was the army the elf and Dorian had already foreseen in their magically shoved future tour, and now they knew _where_ it had originated. The fucking Wardens, the very ones _sworn_ to fight the Blight and all it stood for.

Cassandra hesitantly stepped closer, obviously wanting to comfort the elf but unsure of how in his rage. Hawke watched, disgusted by the scene, the losses they had just witnessed. All the sacrifices of the idiotic Wardens. Feran had just snapped where she'd kept her fury boiling on the inside, a strong Qunari hand on her shoulder barely keeping her together.

He spat on ashes of dead demons and screamed again before whirling on Stroud with eyes of green flames. “I will _destroy_ your people for this. Every single one of them that is stupid enough to believe it. Every single one who has killed their own comrade for it. Adamant is _finished!_ ”

“Inquisitor, I....” Stroud frowned, brushing his mustache. “I understand. This cannot go without reaction. I can only hope even a handful have questioned this as I have. Understand those who are questioning are most likely warriors or rogues, forced into the rituals. All of the mages seem...easily influenced.”

“Weak _bas_ _saarebas_ without proper handlers and bindings.” Ash sneered over the corpses and shook his head. “You call the Qunari treatment of mages brutal, and yet this is the result of your own allowances. There have not been such corrupt _saarebas_ in history, and those who become possessed before undergoing the bindings in service to protect them are killed without question.”

Dorian and Solas both glared, the human coming forward with a snap. “The only fault of these mages is listening to the words of a liar.”

“Corruptible, weak and worthless if they are not strong enough to stand without the handler.”

Hawke rubbed her eyes, muttering, “ _Parshaara_ ,” out of habit of hearing him say it. “It is done. Now we plan the next step. It will not be peaceful if this Tevinter has so much control over their leader.”

“Clarell was an honorable woman, most likely swayed by wishing to stop the Calling and the deaths,” Stroud said with a sigh, crossing his arms. “I knew her well once. But this...she called for me to be brought in, apparently knowing I'd be sacrificed. I cannot forgive that or her actions now.”

“If she is not brought to reason, I will cut her throat, myself!” The Inquisitor shouted and pushed past people as he stormed by, leaving the scene with disgust. “People trusted the Wardens. And now they have no reason to. May the gods find those who see the truth be spared. The Dread Wolf take these blasted souls before I do.”

Solas had sighed then, probably worried for his elven friend.

“Feran,” Cassandra softly said and walked out after him down the stone steps. Hawke watched as the Seeker grew close to the furious elf, one who was no doubt tired of being put through these trials with the weight of Thedas on his shoulders. Maker knew it was enough to break a lesser man. Cassandra grabbed Feran before he could whistle for the white hart and pulled him to her, arms around his neck. The elf shook with anger and tiredness as he held the woman back, face burying against hers, her gloved hands in his thick black hair. “We will finish this, my love. You are not alone. I will _always_ help you.”

The elf leaned back to look the Seeker in the eye and, in a flash, grabbed her short hair and yanked her roughly to him, his mouth branding hers in front of witnesses who quickly looked away. Hawke smiled at him weakly, glad to see passion in Lavellan for another. Being forced as the head of something made you awfully lonely—she knew that from experience far too well. It wasn't that she hadn't had offers, even for marriage once her nobility status had been reinstated in Kirkwall. It was that none of those men would have understood her duty, and that she'd wanted that damnable Arishok and even her appreciation for Fenris hadn't been enough to deter it. 

As she turned away with a sigh, her emotions just swallowed her. She, too, was tired. She, too, was so furious at what the Wardens had slipped into that she could almost call for their entire extinction as an order. Hawke felt absolutely drained and had since the Tevinter had kept the Wardens they'd met here from rational thought, since she'd watched them slice their comrades' throats without question before they could be stopped. Her own blades had killed a Warden mage this day.

Frustration shook her shoulders as her head hung low, throbbing. Her stomach was uncomfortable, making it worse. Firm, long fingers grabbed her jaw and forced her to look up. Ash's face was severe, the incident here only proving the Qun's way right to him. But in that second his features softened, only for her. “Do not bow to this. You may be tired, but you are not broken, Hawke.”

“Not yet,” she grunted under her breath. At this rate she honestly wondered how much longer she had until she was going to lose it, like Lavellan but only worse.

“That pustule of a city did not break you. This will not either.” Ash eyed her gently, but firmly, fingers gripping her chin sliding back to cup her head as he leaned down and brushed his crown to hers. “Your strength is a source of pride for me, _kadan_ , but I understand limitations.”

Hawke fought the tremor in her lip. “Thank you.”

He firmly nodded and took her hand, eyes flicking around them before leading them down the stairs. The rest slowly followed, equally as drained and silent in thought. The Inquisitor let go of Cassandra with a silent thanks, fingers gripping hers as they walked to the mounts. Hawke wondered how the relationship had happened between the absolutely devout Seeker and an equally, but differently devout Dalish elf. She supposed it was another one of those pairings that rose above all the differences, just like she and Ash had.

That night they camped at the keep the Inquisition had taken, located farther north and rather west from the spot they'd had the confrontation with today. Most of the camp was silent. They'd heard. They'd seen their Inquisitor's absolute fury rise again as he spoke with one of his scouts to send word back to the Advisers in Skyhold, and they trusted him to handle the situation. Dinner had been a solemn affair, a coin game quietly taking place off to the side without usual mirth.

Hawke felt strange, eating a fair amount and then noticed her stomach roll the contents. Ash kept unusually close to her for some reason, and she wondered if it was a response to her visible upset earlier. Even so, he sniffed her brow a few times, nuzzled her head when others weren't looking. As sweet as the new behavior was, it was still, well, new. She liked it, even if she didn't know what had spurred it.

They claimed one of the tents on the far side of the keep, as private as possible next to the Inquisitor's own tent. She'd heard Feran usually kept right in the middle of his soldiers in solidarity, but this night none questioned his decision to abruptly walk into a far away unclaimed tent. Eyes respectfully avoided the area for the evening, mouths not even whispering when the Seeker softly entered and didn't come back out for the night.

In their own tent, Hawke stretched, shivering a little as the night cooled off the desert's heat from the day. Ash snapped the cloth shut and, bent over tightly to not tear it with his horns, began stripping off his armor. Hawke sat up and stilled the large hands, smiling at his curious look before she resumed his task. Ash looked rather content as he sat back, half-lidded eyes watching her strip him. She wondered if it was some type of Qunari honor, like her bathing him had been, without her knowing it. And if it was, then good—she wanted him always aware of her love.

When she finished she tucked the armor away next to hers and lay down, eyes closing. Knuckles kneaded over her flesh, into her sore shoulders and down her back, fingers digging into knots in her legs. Hawke moaned a little, grateful for the massage. Ash shifted, ruffled through their things, and produced the rare oil Josephine had gifted them. With just a couple small drops on his hands, he returned to touching her, working her through until she felt like a soft puddle of a woman. And Maker did she smell good. The Qunari might have had many faults, but they had _excellent_ taste in such things.

Spices struck her nose, the touch making her sigh, and suddenly her sick stomach just calmed. Quieted, as if satisfied somehow. She frowned at that, realizing her stress level must have been even worse than she'd imagined.

Slowly her eyes closed, and Hawke felt the warmth of him wrap around her tightly, protectively, a hand securely on her stomach.

 

[--------------------------]

 

 

They opted to stay in the Western Approach and wait for the Inquisitor to return with his general and army for the attack. Honestly, he _wanted_ to be in the heat a bit longer. He needed it, as a Qunari, to ground him again after all the snow. And somehow without him saying so, Hawke had understood, claiming similar sentiments the night of their decision. Considering Kirkwall had its own sand and warmth despite its winter season, he understood Hawke's enjoyments as well.

Ash knew Hawke desperately wanted privacy, but the keep the Inquisition had taken was beyond the safest place for them at that moment. They could camp with others in set spots in the desert, but only _with_ the others—alone, one would always have to be awake and alert for the desert's populous and dangerous wildlife.

Already Ash himself had helped the keep's forces repel hyenas, wild dogs, a few phoenixes and gurguts. It had kept him busy, and let Hawke get energy of her own out as she helped them, too. He put his foot down, though, when a group came and very hesitantly asked for his aid. A pack of darkspawn had wandered close enough to be dangerous, and a huge Hurlock alpha kept leading them closer by.

Hawke had almost refused, and he knew why. She'd told him the story of her brother's death one night during their travels—of the young human sacrificing himself to give them a bit of time while fighting an ogre. She'd killed her own fair share of darkspawn since and was not fond of the process, hating their smell and nastiness. But she saw the desperation in the scouts' eyes. They wanted a...Hurlock alpha of their own to help.

When she finally said it was up to him, Ash nodded his assent and grabbed her face, resting his brow to hers so their eyes locked. Confidently he stated, “I will return. Do not sneak after us.”

“If you can help, I can help.”

Ash looked over the group, assessed their size and weapons. “It will be fine. They may need you here.”

“Fine,” Hawke sighed, rolling her eyes and squeezed his hand once with her small one before he let go.

The darkspawn hadn't been too tough. Ash had fought some years ago, but it hadn't been a common occurrence. The Blight had come out of Ferelden, well south of Qunari territory for the most part. But some Deep Roads entrances _did_ cross close to the boundaries, and so a few groups of the creatures had eventually manage to get in his sights at one point.

He made quick work of two regular sized Hurlocks, slicing them apart while the scouts covered him with arrows and two others soldiers bravely used their swords and shields beside him. The alpha had roared at him and charged, knowing full well he was the true threat. With pleasure Ash clashed weapons with the nasty beast, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the taint and the disgusting look of it.

The alpha had been surprisingly clever for a darkspawn that wasn't an emissary and capable of magic. Ash's weapons slammed into it, knocking it back aways and giving the archers a large target for a few seconds. The arrows slowed, but did not kill the alpha Hurlock, and it ran back toward Ash with a scream. Ash braced himself with his weapons and dug his boots into the deep sand as best he could, feeling the large monster shove him a foot or two. He managed to lift a foot and pivoted, sending it running past him for a moment. More arrows dotted its back.

With one final charge, it turned and came for him. But Ash was ready. He waited until it came close, large ax raised, and sliced his own ax sideways, cutting it across the middle. Putrid guts poured out of it, and the alpha tried desperately to swing its weapon as it collapsed. His sword blocked the swing and, with a flip of his weapons' hafts in his hands, he brought both down, cleanly chopping off the alpha's arms.

The monster screeched in pain, then toppled, not drawing another breath.

“Thank you,” one of the soldiers gasped as they ran to him. They'd finished off the rest of the small band with the archers' help.

Ash nodded and looked over his weapons, sneering. They smelled and had darkspawn blood and guts tainting them. They would need cleaned. As they walked back to the keep, his weapons' care the first thing he planned to do after informing Hawke of the success, one of the scouts quietly said behind him, “Imagine if we had an army of _him_. That Corypheus would be done for.”

A second scout replied as quietly, “We've got him, and that's enough. Thank the Maker he and the Champion stayed with us. We'd have lost lots of men to that monster out there. Not a single one of us injured or tainted by blight. Maker.”

Ash smirked a little to himself, even as it made him miss his own command, because he was appreciative that at least some of the people at the keep were grateful for their continued stay. Too often they felt unsure of their place as current allies, even in the camps they rested in. Ash walked toward the keep's entrance, weapons still out and held carefully to avoid injuring any. He found Hawke talking with one of the scouts while she sharpened her daggers by the door.

Those warm brown eyes snapped to him with absolute relief. Ash realized in that instant she'd _feared_ he might not return, like her brother. She'd not just worried, but feared. Needless, and once he'd have called it weakness, but...he realized now that it wasn't weakness; it was strength of her love. Ash gave her a small half-smile and raised his weapons. “I must purge them of the flesh.”

“Norwich, grab a bucket of water we can spare. We don't want the taint spreading.”

The scout instantly obeyed Hawke's order, and Ash soon sat down, cleaning the weapons with a rag he burnt afterwards and _hesitantly_ let one of the Inquisition mages heat the blades with fire magic to purify anything left behind. The bucket was dumped in the sand a fair distance from the keep to ensure health risk was minimal, then destroyed for safety.

That evening after they'd eaten and retired for the night, Ash lay on his back, fingers brushing over her side. Hawke stroked over his chest. “I was afraid today.”

“I know.”

“That does not mean I lacked faith in you.”

“I know that as well.”

She rested her chin on his upper torso and looked at him. “I don't know what I would...do if anything happened to you.”

“Live,” he softly said, fingers gripping into her side gently.

“Not fair to ask, since I know what you would do if you lost me.”

Ash fought the urge to lock his jaw as emotion swept over him. Yes, she knew. He'd kill himself after maybe helping the Inquisition more, and be done with it. There was nothing else outside the Qun for him but Hawke. Nothing else he wanted. And he was not sentimental as the humans were about life and living and death.

“As my mother used to say in times like these, 'Do as I say, not as I do.' Fitting, isn't it, love?” she asked, rising up over him a little to look him in the eye.

He stared at her, never able to stop realizing her beauty. And here, in this desert and warmth, he felt content. As close to Par Vollen and Seheron as possible with her. “Yes,” he grunted with a swallow.

“Well, Mother had another saying: 'Camilla, you silly child, you will run some poor man ragged someday with your independence.'” Hawke smiled at his smirk. “Are you ragged yet, dearest?”

“No,” he answered, eyes narrowed with amusement.

“Then I've much work ahead of me.”

“ _Kadan_ ,” he lowly chuckled and kissed her forehead, nose inhaling her delicious smell.

Hawke reached up and kissed his ear, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Ash felt his breath catch and his body immediately half-harden in response. She loved kissing him there. She knew it was sensitive. And he enjoyed it too much to stop her. With a quick tug, she was in his half-raised lap, her mouth under his and his hand cupping her slightly swollen breast.

 


	17. Adamant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

Borrowed trebuchets blasted parts of Adamant Fortress's walls before aiming higher for the ramparts. The fiery projectiles lit up more of the night around them. Inquisition soldiers used a battering ram to break in the huge, reinforced door while Cullen watched, barking orders to others to bring forth the ladders and scale the walls.

Hawke jerked her head, catching the Inquisitor's attention. “Ash and I will take the walls with your men, keep some of the attention diverted. Get up if you can through the fortress.”

“Thank you. Be careful,” Feran smiled and watched as their closest ladder got shoved against the wall. Wardens swung weapons out near the top, trying to shake it loose and attack those already climbing. With a glare the elf drew back on his bow and took out two Wardens, clearing the top for a moment. “Get up there!”

Hawke took up the ladder, hoofing it as fast as she could under a scout. Ash followed her over the top, weapons out the instant his feet were on the solid rampart floors. Warden mages had already performed blood rituals, and rage, fear and despair demons prowled alongside them.  
  
As a group they charged two of the mages with demons. Hawke went for the mage on the left while he was distracted watching Ash slice up a fear demon. Her daggers burst through the mage's back, and he screamed, tossing out magic to get her away. Narrowly she avoided the fire spells, whipping back around as Ash roared out; the rage demon had swiped its flaming claws, and Ash had ducked back, but a painful slash burned near his right horns on his brow for a moment before it resumed bleeding. Hawke darted around the rage demon, taunting it with jabs that couldn't do much to its jelly-like body until one of the Inquisition mages climbed over the latter and blasted a slew of ice spells at it. The creature went down next to Ash as he cut up a second fear demon and a Warden with a sword.

They kept the area clear as possible, running down part of the ramparts to clear the other end as well. It took some time, but the Inquisitor eventually showed with his party, having slaughtered their way through; they had, however, found some friendly Wardens being attacked inside and managed to save them, and so brought some fresh help up to the ramparts to keep the tide turning.

The second they could breathe with a larger group to cover them, Hawke sheathed her daggers and motioned with her fingers for Ash to bow his head. He was rumbling low, agitated no doubt by so much magic around, but she was absolutely concerned about that magical burn to his head. It was slightly glowing in spots still. “Solas!” she called, knowing the elf was near with the Inquisitor.

Instantly the mage came to them and saw the problem. He hesitantly raised his hand, eyes asking Ash for permission that the Qunari only granted when he saw Hawke's firm nod. Moments later cooling ice magic toned down the burn, and Hawke watched Ash sigh in utter relief. While the area that had been burned was up around his horns, it had sensitive skin still near the spots that got hit. Solas made sure all of the burning was cooled before he switched to healing magic and gently healed the spots as best he could at the moment.

“Thank you,” Hawke said and patted his narrow shoulder in relief. “The rage demon's fire is nothing to spit at.”

“Indeed not,” Solas agreed, backing up and checking over his work with a satisfied nod.

“Ash?” Hawke asked as her love stood up right and shook himself.

He lightly nodded, eyes on Solas in easy-to-see gratitude. They watched together as the elf turned and moved for another wounded party that the Inquisitor called attention to, wanting to secure the area before they pushed onward. The sudden, terrifying sound of dragon screams caught everyone's attention, and dozens of heads snapped, looking for the origin of the noise. Hawke looked up at Ash firmly, hoping they weren't going to die here together. “We will follow the Inquisitor. He cannot be lost.”

“ _Atashii_ ,” Ash murmured, then sniffed the air. “Tainted _atashii_.”

“What?”

“The dragon carries taint in its smell. It is approaching.”

Hawke wanted to throw up and pushed through some people, Ash on her heels. “That has to be connected to Corypheus. Inquisitor!”

Feran's handsome head snapped up from a circle of people readying their weapons. His own bow was out, arrow held in his grip. “You staying or following?”

“Following. Ash says the dragon has taint like Corypheus. It's in the smell.”

“It's not near enough to smell that, surely,” Feran replied, a bit quizzical, but as soon as he shut his mouth the roar shook the ground and the beast itself flew overhead, red and purple and looking as if it were rotting apart. Hawke grinned as Ash threw a very snarky look at the elf, and Feran just shrugged with a half-smile. “Okay. So it is. Let's go.”

Hawke, Ash and Stroud followed the Inquisitor with Solas, Cassandra and Blackwall. Together they cleared a serious path through the rest of the fortress, winding around and down and back up as they fought through blood magic, demons and possessed Wardens. They all stopped upon entering an open area in the interior; many mages stood waiting, and Clarell and the Tevinter himself stood high upon some elevated stone, speaking about the Inquisition's lies. The Inquisitor's lies.

“He wants to keep the Blight!”

“He is slaughtering your kin!”

And so on and so forth rang around the crowd of angry, misled folk. Hawke gripped her daggers, on her toes and ready to slice through anything that got near the group. Once the Wardens noticed them all enter, it grew quieter, with terrified hushed voices as eyes rested on the Inquisitor and Ash alike in fear. Feran stepped forward, bow still in hand, and pointed up at the two leaders.  
  
“Clarell, do you realize what you have done? What foolishness you have bought into and sold the lives and morals of everyone you carry responsibility for? They all die, all sacrifice others to demons to bring a demonic army for Corypheus—the Magister's—control. The very exemplification of the Blight itself! Do not believe this man any longer!”

“Lies! He shakes with fear at your power because he knows we are strong!” the Tevinter mage shouted back, staff out and pointing.

Clarell shook her head and brought forth an older Warden, a human male, and blatantly sacrificed him in front of everyone. And so, with that act, ensured her own fate as Hawke fumed with fire inside of her. The Tevinter quickly opened a Fade rift right in front of them, and a large, very powerful pride demon came out.

“Ankles,” Ash shouted at her, then ran alongside Blackwall to bash into the thing and try to take its balance away before it could strike.

Hawke took a breath, centered in the middle of all the stunned mages, and zoned in on her target. Like a shadow she darted around it, slicing through the back of its feet and legs, trying to rip through the scaling and expose anything she could cut and bring it to its knees permanently. Ash, Blackwall and Cassandra kept it captivated, taking the brunt of most of the physical hits and area effects as it stamped down and roared, lightning magic crackling out. The Seeker quickly dispelled and protected them, and Hawke felt the strong magic slide over her with amazing energy. Feran's arrows managed to penetrate parts of the armor of the demon, and he was trying to hit it in the eye with a long-draw shot as Hawke slid around him without disturbing his focus and avoided a hit. Together they brought the beast to a knee, one of its ankles hacked deeply from her blades. Ash tore into its head as best he could with his height and reach, the other two supporting him and creating distractions.  
  
But it was Feran's arrow that finished it. With the beast down and roaring in pain, he got a clear shot and nailed it right in the eye. It screamed and leaned back, then faded out.

The rift still swirled, but they had no time. Feran shouted, trying to get Clarell to realize what she had done—what she'd made them all do, and _finally_ the Tevinter showed his true colors and snapped at the woman, throwing her back with magic before taking off so the Inquisitor couldn't shoot him. Dragon screams over head followed the path of the mage running, and to her surprise, Hawke watched Clarell take off after the Tevinter in fury, her own staff out and ready to avenge. Blackwall shouted for them to go while he stayed behind, barking loud shouts over the panicked Warden survivors. Together the remainder of the group followed Clarell, huffing a little from the last fight, up a few sets of stairs.  
  
The front of the group rounded a corner to the right and were running with exposed hall to the outside edge and sand, to the elements, and as Hawke and Ash moved to follow tightly around the corner, the dragon appeared and blew fire right toward them. Hawke let out a scream of shock and hit the ground on her hands and knees, relieved when she heard Ash's heavy fall behind her. The dragon screeched harshly at them, then moved down, distracted by Feran's arrow to spare them.

Quickly they got back up and ran for it, Hawke shouting over the noise if Ash was burned. Thankfully he wasn't. The dragon was still flying around high when the group reformed, watching with wide eyes as Clarell took on the Tevinter, her anger clearly visible in her magic skill. She managed to hit the man with a disabling spell, one that froze him in place, and Cassandra ran for him, dragging the bastard out of the way and snatched rope from a pack on her hip to tie his wrists, even as he lay immobile. Feran covered her, eyes on the sky like Clarell and the rest, while the dragon screamed and came down. They rolled out of the way of its nasty, strange fire, and Clarell tried her best to attack it as it landed in front of them on the high side of the building.

Hawke stared in shock, Ash towering over her from behind, as Clarell screamed and threw magical attacks with her staff, injuring the beast, but not killing it. The creature shifted just slightly after one of the hits, and Hawke realized what was happening. She took a step forward, screaming, _“Clarell, run!”_

But the Warden didn't have a chance before the dragon made a snap movement and snatched her in its jaws. Her screams were loud and vicious before it crunched down and broke her almost in half, then spat her out, her remains rolling almost near the Tevinter where he lay bound still. No one moved in shock as they watched the dragon jump up and circle once more. Then they saw it coming hard and low, mouth open with fire rolling, and they ran for it.

The stones and rock broke under their furious steps, crumbling hundreds of feet down to the ground. Hawke desperately tried to keep ahead of it, panicking as she felt stones leave below her toes while she jumped off of them in terror. Only a few were ahead of her, and she saw, all too well, that the stones were going to be gone before they could safely land. Blindly Hawke reached out and grabbed Ash's arm, shouting that she loved him, when she saw very bright green light erupt from the Inquisitor's arm in front of her. He let go of his run and free fell past her, making her scream like Cassandra behind her, and then there was a huge sound and even more green light behind them as they all began to fall.

Hawke rolled in the air, Ash close and staring at her for a split second, before she looked down as she descended and saw the Fade rift open and all of them go through it.

 


	18. Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She'd never been in the Fade like this before.  
> And knowing what she does after, she wishes even more that she hadn't fallen into it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I went there, sigh.  
> Just roll with me; it creates a lot of interesting, complex and fun scenes between other characters (Fenris, hello) and events in the future.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

They hovered as they fell, then dropped with loud thumps. Hawke groaned, finding herself on her back. She slowly sat up, blinked and looked around, eyes huge. She'd been...in the Fade before, but not like this. Never like this.

The ground they stood on was solid. Real. Not dream-like or otherworldly. Waking up would do nothing here except remind her that here they were— _physically in the Fade itself_. Hawke swallowed the scream of fear building inside of her and turned when she saw Ash a few feet away pushing to stand. The moment he saw her he yanked her to him, arms holding her close and breathing furiously. Close. It had been too close of a call, and now what would they do?

Feran sighed as he hopped off a rock he was standing on and helped Cassandra to her feet. Solas looked around, completely unfazed and perhaps even strangely excited. Stroud just groaned as he shook his head. The Inquisitor glanced to Hawke with a shrug. “I'm not fond of being here, but at least we can find a way out. Better than being smears in the desert.”

“Just _how_ do we get out?” Hawke asked in stunned confusion while Ash let go of her, relieved.

“We find a Fade rift, and we go through, just like all the other demons,” Solas murmured without concern. “There is one near—the one opened in Adamant itself. We must find it soon before it closes.”

“I _cannot_ believe this is happening,” Cassandra gaped, spinning in a circle to look around at the devastated wasteland of the Fade. “Maker. We're _here_. Feran...I...I never doubted you, but _this_ is....”

“I know,” the elf said and briefly squeezed the Seeker's fingers with his.

“To prevail you must remember. To survive you must fight the fear.”

Every head turned at the new voice addressing them. Hawke stared up at the golden figure of light, trying desperately to figure out what it was. Who it was. Cassandra's panicked intake of breath caught everyone off-guard. “ _Divine Justinia?_ Is that _you_?”

“Holy Maker,” Hawke whispered, taking a step back into Ash's chest.

“You. You were the one they saw, the one who helped me out before,” the Inquisitor said with reverence as he stepped closer to the floating spirit.

Cassandra hadn't blinked yet. “It was...the Divine, not Andraste.”

“In a way,” the spirit answered. Hawke eyed it with fascination, but being _in the Fade itself_ , she didn't fully trust anything she saw here. The being continued, looking to Feran, “You must regain your memories here. Fight through the monsters the Nightmare demon will send. The demon controls this realm and terrorizes on behalf of Corypheus. It cannot be allowed to continue, and removing it is the only way you may get to the rift. I will help you.”

“Fantastic,” Hawke grumbled, catching Stroud's similar grunt next to her.

Feran took a deep breath and nodded, then started walking forward on the path ahead. Solas eagerly followed after him, eyes on everything studiously, but Cassandra tried hard to speak with the Divine's spirit. Begged it to give her answers. And it wouldn't. It did, however, float right to Hawke before dissipating. Ash growled threateningly, inserting himself between them at the last second. The spirit seemed to be understanding and bowed its head. “All will come through safely,” it murmured, and vanished on the spot.

“What does that even mean? We'll all survive this?” Cassandra blatantly asked.

The rest of the group hoofed it after the two exploring elves, whispering theories to one another and commenting on the surroundings in their shock. Ash had yet to really say a word, but Hawke could _feel_ how on edge he was, how caged he was becoming in the fact that he was physically in a realm of magical control. Hawke took Ash's hand as the Inquisitor paused near a wisp of something curiously, saying, “We'll get out of this. Are you all right?”

“This cannot be real,” Ash sneered in his unnerved state. “Every moment we are in complete danger.”

“I know. But it is real. Stay close. This place will mess with your head to control you, Ash. You have to be clear headed,” Hawke advised him with a rub of her thumb over his knuckles and let go.

Feran, meanwhile, was kneeling by the wisp. Seconds after Hawke refocused, the Inquisitor gasped like he'd just come out of nearly drowning. Cassandra instantly bent to check on him in her worry, but Solas took her shoulder tightly. “He's fine. He is remembering.”

“What do you remember?” Cassandra asked her lover.

It turned out that the elf didn't have to say anything. The wisp became bloated and blasted apart, and voices were suddenly heard as a vision came to life of Corypheus's shadow suspending the Divine herself. _Wardens_ were helping the fucking magister do it. Feran's double ran into the fading vision, screaming at the scene, and it faded away.

“Maker's light,” Cassandra said, hand at her throat. “They _didn't_.”

Stroud socked some of the rubble nearby in his fury. “It appears that they did. I am deeply sorry, Seeker, for what the Wardens have done.”

“The Conclave...the Divine...they....”

Hawke left Ash's side but a moment to pat Cassandra on her back. After all, she'd gone through this herself with Anders...feeling betrayed, feeling like you'd never known something the entire time. She _understood_ the shock, the shame, the anger on the Seeker's face. “We must get back and deal with them. C'mon.”

Not long after that came the spiders. Ash tore into the Fade monsters alongside Hawke and the rest while the Nightmare demon taunted them vocally from every direction possible. “Fucking spiders,” Hawke hissed as she killed the last one near her. “I hate spiders.”

“Hawke, those were Qunari,” Ash grumbled and kicked at one of the dead spiders next to her.

Solas shook his head and poked at the creature, too. “No. It is whatever you fear. That is the point of the demon's control. To some of us it will be spiders because that is a common fear. To you, Qunari, it is an assassin you know is haunting you.”

Ash snarled, grabbed part of the dead demon, and flung its entire being across from them in his hatred. The rest of the group watched him worriedly, but not nearly as much as Hawke did. The Fade was getting to him. Badly. He literally couldn't handle the idea of it, let alone being forced inside of its reality. This was what his mages saw in dreams, mages his people had readily sewn the mouths of shut. Hawke wondered, not for the first time, if Qunari _saarebas_ screamed in the night through their clenched jaws.

Hawke took his hand, and together the group moved onward in search of more of Feran's memory, the Nightmare demon, and the Fade rift home. There were plenty more spiders accompanied by fear and rage and other types of demons to rattle their bones. But perhaps the creepiest thing of all was the graveyard they found in the Fade. It was false and designed by the Nightmare demon, but even so as they browsed the area, Hawke stared at the headstones in great fear. For on one of them was her name and the word GUILT while on another was Ash's name and the word CORRUPTION. Hawke covered her mouth with a gauntlet, very disturbed. Ash came up close to her and saw what she was looking at. The roar ripped out of his already upset self, and he swung his weapons at the stones until they broke in half. Cassandra paused in her own shocked perusal of the stone with her name and watched in worry.

“We're almost there,” Feran called and pointed to a path he'd found. “Let's get out of here.”

Up the nasty stairs was the Divine's spirit again. Hawke watched it whisper something to Feran, then console Cassandra for a moment. “It is ahead. You must not let your fear control you, or it will invade you, possess you, and win.”

“Then we kill it,” Feran snapped and raised his bow like a beacon. The sight of it made Hawke feel stronger, spurred her into the moment. Even Ash gripped his weapons with more security and nodded.

They broke through into the next area. There, on the other side, was the Fade rift. Just waiting. It was too convenient. Suddenly the spiders overflowed the area, and the group had to coordinate just to keep from being overwhelmed. So when the actual Nightmare demon flickered into perception next to Hawke, she screamed loudly in surprise at the skeletal, tall being with stretched pale skin. Ash roared and swung, getting in a slice before the being faded and reappeared feet away.

“One of _those_ bastards,” Hawke sniped and went for it, shouting for Feran to keep his bow cocked and ready to shoot as the demon jumped from place to place. Spiders kept Stroud and Cassandra too busy to even be able to help them, so Hawke and Ash tried to keep the Nightmare demon engaged with them.

They struggled greatly until Cassandra finally freed herself from the spiders and used some of her Seeker gifts, nullifying some of the magic so Solas could help momentarily freeze the stupid demon in its spot. The moment it froze, Ash tore into it to the point that Hawke leaped away for fear of getting caught in the crossings of his weapons. The demon screeched and shouted obscenities at them as it melted and faded to another spot to recover, obviously greatly wounded.

And it was at this point that Feran shouted that the rift was flickering like it might get closed to keep them inside. Panic hit each one of the group, but as Hawke looked from the green light to the screeching demon surrounded by spiders, she knew what had to be done.

“I'll stay and finish it! This is _my_ duty, Corypheus _my_ responsibility. If this can weaken him, give you your chance, then it is my place!” Hawke screamed over the sounds of the spiders now running their way, the Nightmare hovering disrupted in the background as it healed itself.

Stroud appeared at her side and shook his head, weapon and eyes glancing over their shoulders to keep watch in the brief seconds they had to decide. “No, Hawke! It is the fault of the Wardens, and I will be the one to cleanse this honor, to give you chance to further finish your fight!”

“Absolutely not, Stroud! That leaves the Wardens with no Senior!” Hawke countered furious. “You must go. I will remain!”

“Cousland and Alistair live. Let them take charge as they should have long ago!”

Hawke saw the logic in it, but she couldn't let it go. Not even the deep love in her heart for the Qunari staring at her in a mixture of absolute fury and understanding was enough. The destruction at the Conclave came back to her, heavily. She stared at Ash, apology in her eyes, before turning and whispering, “Goodbye, _kadan_. I will not be weak. Tell Varric...just hug him for me.”

“No!”

She paused, surprised at his demand of a protest. Hawke steeled herself and started to walk away, shouting for them to go, to go now! But a huge hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her backward. Hawke looked upward at the absolute rage in his face, more rage than he'd even shown in Kirkwall. “ _No!_ ” he roared, and in that instant Hawke knew she'd have to kill him to get her way. One claw pointed. “You, Warden! Go!”

Even that damn elf agreed, much to Hawke's annoyance. “Stroud! Your wish will be honored!”

Stroud bowed his head in appreciation and ran off, sword ready.

The rest of them watched the brief moment in shock; the Inquisitor shouted for them to move, and Hawke struggled to go after Stroud, burning with the need, but a heavy arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her. She kicked, she screamed, she both hated and loved him for refusing to let her go. The Inquisitor waited for Cassandra, Solas, and Blackwall to run through the rift, only coming behind she and Ash with eyes looking where Hawke's had—at Stroud as he fought the Nightmare alone, already getting ripped apart, but dealing as much damage as he could, causing the demon to scream; there was no way the Warden was going down without taking the demon with him.

They fell through the rift, most of them stumbling on their feet as they came back into Adamant Fortress, startling the fuck out of fighting Wardens and Inquisition forces. Quickly the Inquisitor sealed the tear of the Veil and began shouting to get attention and control of the situation, using Blackwall for help.

But Hawke couldn't hear his speech. Thunderous Qunari steps were all she could take in as Ash carried her farther away. She'd stopped fighting him, just hung limp in his hold with guilt and anger. And...thankfulness, in some way. Duty had overridden her desire to stay with him, to be together as long as possible, and she'd figured he'd respect that. Had he changed _that_ much? Had _she_?

Gently she was lowered to the ground, sat upright. Hawke shut her eyes, shuddering with adrenaline that wasn't spent. After a few silent moments, she blinked and found Ash on a knee in front of her, head bowed close. His eyes were tight, rolling with emotion, but something else caught her attention.

The mighty Qunari was shaking. Physically. Like he was having a seizure, his entire form _trembling_ before her. It broke most of her anger against him, and she leaned forward, hooking her arms around his thick neck. He kept shuddering, unable to stop, and she held him in silence, the only sounds shouting and voices from the crowd a bit from them.

“Why didn't you let me go?” she whispered, voice cracking. “You once respected such devotion to duty. Ash, I love you and I didn't want to leave you, but at the same time...can't you understand?”

“More than you know, _kadan_.”

“Then why?”

Ash helped her to her feet, letting her rest back against a wall piece that stuck out. He closed his intense eyes. “I...wanted to let you go, understood your reason because of the Qun. Too much held me back.”

“I...Maker, Ash, I don't blame you, okay? It's just.... I love you. I know.”

With a sharp growl and a wave of his hand, he silenced her. “No. You don't. You cannot register the effect you've had, the changes you created within me. You helped me find new purpose, new life. New order. I will not have it without you, not unless it is you dying while killing the magister himself. There was no guarantee your death in there would have done anything as to your goals, Hawke. Someone must save you from this guilt if you do not. It is not worth you, this corruption. You are far more.”

“I...all right,” she accepted quietly, unable to deny his words or fault the man for finding the new love too powerful over his past rationality. The fact that she'd seen that terrifying gravestone with the word guilt on it helped his point drive home harder.

“But that is not all.”

“It isn't?”

Ash raised his head proudly, small nicks on his arms bleeding a little; the cut from the rage demon on the ramparts had stopped bleeding long before, thanks to Solas earlier. He'd not hesitated in the Fade either—despite his shock of being there, he'd been on point with every hit, attacking with his usual prowess, and she loved that about him.

He took a step closer, eyes holding hers with focus. And then, gently, his hand trailed over her chest and stopped.

Hawke's brown eyes widened as he watched her, palm resting on her belly, fingers opening to gently caress it despite the armor and leather she wore. Her mind snapped back to recent nights after so much travel, how he'd started sleeping with a hand on her belly at night, whether they'd had sex or not. She'd thought it adorable, a new habit, but...maybe he hadn't done it out of a new routine. How often had he scented her lately that she thought was strange new behavior? What had he been...?

It...couldn't be. Her lip quivered as his gaze intensified and his hand did not remove itself. Tears wet her eyes. Was it...true? “H-How long?” she asked, voice cracking.

Ash gazed over her in concern, hand warming her through the layers covering her skin. “I noticed signs over the last three weeks—your appetite, your discomfort, your needs. Scent change started before that. I was not sure at first. I have not been this close to a female...after.”

Hawke's strength left her as her knees buckled. Ash immediately caught her, changing his hold to lift her into his arms and cradle her to his chest while he gracefully bent and settled where she'd sat before. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rocked against him, fingers clutching at his armored chest. She hadn't known. He'd known, or at least had suspicions, but...didn't stop her from fighting here, knowing how important it was. Ash just couldn't let her sacrifice herself, not when he loved her and needed her. Not when she carried his child.

Her mind reeled at the knowledge. Yeah, she'd gotten hungrier over their traveling, but they'd gone between cold travel and hot sand, her body adjusting to changing temperatures and routines. Her moods had swung a bit, the saddle had started bothering her...the overall feeling of discomfort, as he'd said, eating its way through her each time they'd fought with the Inquisitor on the path to this moment. And yeah, she had gotten _cravings_ for him.

And she'd almost killed herself and her baby for nothing more than guilt and honor that, even in that righteous moment, wouldn't have assured Corypheus his demise—just more of a chance for the Inquisitor to make it happen. She'd accepted that part before, but now...looking at what she'd have lost—a family—it terrified her. She had to let some of this guilt go before it killed her like the poison it was. Like the poison Ash had told her it was. More than ever she appreciated his determination.

And now, through no intention of their own, their child had been exposed directly into the Fade itself. Hawke almost vomited, terrified at what that effect it might have. Would they have an abomination child now? A _saarebas_ that Ash would disapprove of and want bound the way he knew or worse, want it killed? Seeing his rejection or binding of the child might test their bond too much for her.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered, her own hands coming down to rest over his on her belly. “I'm so sorry.”

Ash grunted and nuzzled her face and neck, trying to calm her. “It is done. You still live.”

“Ash...we were in the Fade.”

“I know.”

Hawke could hear the absolute worry in his voice and sighed, glad he understood her.

“But we do not know effects. There are those you know and trust who might.”

Her eyes rounded as her fingers tightened over his hand. He was right. They knew a Seeker who could detect magical ability, mages that the Inquisitor personally trusted with his life. Those who might sense if magic had had effect on the child and be able to help. A weight that had threatened to destroy vanished, and she breathed in relief. Ash tilted her face with his cheek and kissed her. Hawke leaned into it, struck now with hope instead of fear. They'd beaten the odds time and time again—their very relationship, their connection the first huge step, and now they had conceived when it was so rare to do so. They would have a _family_.

“You're sure it's there?” she asked, swallowing roughly, brow to his lips.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I grew to be certain the last few days.”

“How are you sure? When were you going to _tell me?_ ”

“Soon. After this battle. I wished you to feel fulfilled first; keeping you from the fight would have caused...more problems, no matter my desire to refrain you.” Ash inhaled, nose rubbing her head. “Scent and behavior have changed and persisted. Your body has begun to change. That was what convinced me beyond the scent difference.”

Hawke blinked and let one hand rise up to cup herself through her armor. Holy Maker. Was _that_ why her armor had felt a bit tight lately, why she'd been sore through her chest? She'd been worried the straps were fucking up. Sure, she'd had some breast soreness, but she'd banked on her body undergoing great stress. And stomach upset was honestly not something she'd considered, if only because her own mother dealt with a sensitive stomach for years. “Andraste's arse,” she murmured in surprise, hand falling back to feel a slight curve on her belly—something she hadn't even noticed, it was so little and she so busy.

They sat for a little while like that as arguments started to finally quiet further inside. She needed to get back in there, but her energy was spent. “Get me in there. I need to know what's going on.”

He grunted, obviously not happy, but stood and walked with her just outside the entrance to where the rift had been opened. Hawke was gently sat on her feet so she could enter with a strong appearance, and she thanked him for the consideration. She'd walked in _just_ in time to hear the Inquisitor argue with Cassandra.

The Seeker was hot with shock. “Their _betrayal_ of us all should grant them exile! Look at the destruction around you, at the memories you now have returned to you!”

“Not all wanted, not all participated. Many turned to help us in the siege. They were led under falsehoods from a misguided, egoistical woman, and I will not doom Thedas's line of defense against a Blight to nothingness! Not those who were forced, not those who were taken against will!” Feran shouted, his voice catching the walls and bouncing everywhere. “We killed the ones responsible, the ones who murdered their brothers and sisters.”

Hawke caught many of the surviving Wardens bow their heads in shame and gratitude. And while his words made sense, Hawke's own emotions aligned with the Seeker's. “They destroyed the Conclave. They all listened to a Calling at once, never questioning why they all heard it together. _That_ is unacceptable. Murdered one another for _blood_ magic. Even those who fought it or tried to hide by seeming complacent...how could they _begin_ to atone for these actions?”

Feran looked to her hotly, the only time she'd ever seen the elf personally aggravated with her. She wasn't afraid, but Hawke did feel a bit...saddened about it. She respected him greatly after everything. “How can they atone without chance to do so?” he asked firmly, softly enough that even Cassandra's eyes melted.

Hawke cursed and looked away; Varric had been right as usual—that damn elf used his big green eyes to sucker you. Still, Hawke wanted to darkly laugh. Would she never leave this dilemma? The irony was killing her with its choking grip. Hands crossing over her arms, she glared up at Ash. “I have stood in your place now. Are you happy?”

Dozens of pairs of eyes all turned to the big Qunari. Ash rotated his jaw, shoulders squared. “I take no happiness in such things. Lessons learned are personal.”

“Mm.”

“Hawke?” The Inquisitor asked, frowning a bit, but not letting go of his glare. He'd been put in this position before, that she'd heard about well considering the alliance with the rebel mages had been the biggest news outside of the Divine's death. How alone had he felt in _that_ decision, and yet she'd seen Skyhold—the mages there had been thriving, nurtured.

She sighed and uncrossed her arms. “Wisdom isn't always seen until later, seeming at times to be unwise before. I learned this myself with a comrade, sparing her life and getting tenfold in return, and made a mistake killing a friend later for something similar. I should have given him chance to give reparations to those innocents caught in it, but the amount of blood was too demanding at the time for me. Don't make that mistake, Inquisitor.”

Ash snorted at her stealing his past words about her defending Isabela. Feran, though, loosened that glare into an expression of appreciation. He nodded that pretty head of his and smiled a little. “Thank you.”

“If you are to ally with them, there must be rules,” Cassandra acquiesced, coming closer to the Inquisitor's side.

Blackwall gestured around them. “The senior wardens are gone, but I will do what I can. The most senior out of you will help. We must cleanse this stain. We must repent. And we must honor Stroud's sacrifice for all of you.”

“Do not forget Cousland. Perhaps Alistair will come, tired of the politics,” Solas reminded them of Stroud's last words.

Hawke was glad for the elf's intervention; the mage's words gave some hope to the eyes of the weary and wary Wardens around them. Feran clapped his hands, gathering attention. “Clean your wounds. Be prepared. My forces will stay here, help with whatever. Govern. We will draw up agreements. For now...rest.”

Her eyes hadn't left the elven mage, the one with the reputation for loving the Fade and studying it. “Solas,” she called softly, catching the bald elf by surprise. He raised his brows, but walked toward her, glancing briefly at Ash who'd frowned, then let it go. “I would speak with you in private.”

“I...very well,” the elf agreed and gestured for her to move forward.

Hawke needed to know. Needed to prepare herself. She moved a bit further within the fortress this time, since the Wardens had begun spreading out to check for survivors and collect their dead. Ash stood behind the elf, blocking him in between them in the small storage room she'd chosen. With a tight breath, Hawke stared at the mage. “I need your help.”

Instantly the look of suspicion dropped from Solas's face. He had healed Ash on the ramparts, after all. “Do you have wounds from the Fade demons?”

“No. But.” Hawke didn't even know where to begin, her hand rubbing her face as she collapsed back onto some crates.

Ash rumbled behind Solas, getting the elf's attention. “My rutting was successful. She carries my _imekari_.”

To his credit Solas didn't freak out or look disgusted. Instead he looked back to Hawke, eyes slowly widening as he realized why she wanted his help. “The child was exposed, brought physically into the Fade inside of you. This has...never in history happened.”

“Exactly.” Hawke kept her trembling in check. “Please...check. Please tell me I didn't unknowingly hurt my child.”

Solas's face softened, the severity often in his expression completely leaving. Hawke had heard him argue with Bull and Ash about the Qun during some traveling, both Qunari seeing his points and also throwing back their own as to why the philosophy still worked in ways. But the bias there was gone now. He stepped closer to her, blinking and bowed his head between the both she and Ash.  
  
“May I?”

“Will the examination make it worse? Create more exposure?” she asked, frightened now.

The elf shook his head. “I promise you I will not do anything as such.”

Ash considered it for a moment, then nodded. Solas looked relieved.

“T-Thank you,” Hawke sighed and straightened her pose while the elf bent in front of her. Hands hovered over her belly and green light surrounded them as Solas closed his eyes.

Ash watched keenly, stepping around, eyes narrowed. The elf _had_ to know the level of trust that he was being given to do this from them, especially from Ash. The massive Qunari paced silently, fingers twitching at his sides no doubt from wanting to stroke his weapon hafts in his hands in case. No one spoke as Solas concentrated, his brow furrowing just slightly for a moment that Hawke saw in her observation of him.

Then the magic stopped, the green light disappearing. Solas exhaled through his nose and opened his eyes, dropping his hands to his sides. Hawke's breath caught as the questions rushed from her. “Is it harmed? Possessed? Magically charged? _Alive?_ ”

At that panicked question, Ash almost snapped. Neither had considered it might have _killed_ the baby, just exposed it to magic. He stormed over, hulking size intimidating as hell over Solas. “Speak, elf.”

“You were right—you do carry. And it is very much alive,” Solas began, rocking back on his heels a little. He looked up to Ash, then Hawke, eyes soft. “It is...magnificent. I never expected such a being possible.”

“What do you mean?” Hawke asked, worry abating some.

Solas slowly smiled. “It is almost as if the child has shielded itself. There was a barrier. I did not penetrate it, just studied it. Something it has done itself—wondrous.”

“ _Saarebas_ ,” Ash quietly cursed and turned away, hands fisting.

Hawke almost cried. Her bloodline, her influence. And now her mate would struggle ever accepting a child between them. Solas saw her expression change, falter, worsen and reached hesitantly forward, touching her knee slightly. “You misunderstand.”

“No, Solas. We just do not...share the same feelings you do. I love my sister, loved my family despite all the destruction magic and its influence caused around us. I never blamed them, nor their abilities. The rest of the world feared them and I didn't. I know magic can be wonderful. But Kirkwall happened. I saw what people do when resorting to hatred. And my love...he knows an entirely different treatment of magic and mages.” Hawke's voice was so soft, barely an apologetic whisper. “I wish I had known.”

Solas shook his head, hand lifting and magic lighting up once more. “No, Hawke. Close your eyes. Feel.”

Hawke bit her lip, but complied, eyes closing as Ash turned back around with a tight gaze. She concentrated, feeling Solas's magic tingling her skin. To be honest she wasn't sure what she should be waiting for, looking for. Then something amazing happened. Somewhere inside she felt a little bubble push back against his magic, refusing it entrance. Deep down a feeling of protection slid over her, and it was almost as if she and the very young fetus were one, that it was protecting her as much as it was itself. She gasped loudly, tears coming down her cheeks at the power of the moment.

Ash's loud stomps toward them jerked her out of it, eyes opening as Solas stopped his magic and looked over his shoulder warily. The Qunari was on edge, ready to kill to satisfy the fear he felt. Hawke reached for one of his hands and placed it on her stomach. “Solas,” she ordered and looked back to Ash as Solas complied and resettled. “Concentrate. I hope you can feel what I did.”

Her gray love looked furious and disturbed at the idea.

Hawke lowered her eyes. “You do nothing with regrets, remember?”

Instantly the tension changed in his arm, the flexing of his hand. Ash took a steadying breath as Solas began a third time, the magic lightly brushing them harmlessly. Hawke once more felt the baby react to the little stimulus. Ash didn't respond, frowning as he watched and waited for anything. She felt sad that he couldn't feel the little bubble, but then it changed. Something snapped and rebounded and Solas jerked back with a hiss, shaking his hand, but smiling wide. Ash felt that, if the hugeness of his eyes was any indication.

“What in Andraste's knickers was _that?_ ” Hawke asked, a bit breathless, feeling like she'd been kicked somehow.

Solas chuckled, actually laughed rather joyously for one so typically somber. “He got tired of the prodding and fought back. Such strength in such a tiny stage. What a force. Considering his parents, this isn't surprising.”

“ _He...?_ ”

The elf blinked and looked between them. “Oh. Yes. Sorry. It is male, at least that is how the energy is reading—masculine in development.”

Hawke broke out in a smile as she held Ash's palm on her stomach still. A son. She had a son inside of her, a little boy that would most likely one day get as big as his father. Her brown eyes lifted, caught the wonder on Ash's face that he didn't hide—neat eyes large and emotionally open, face vulnerable to expression of surprise and racing thoughts. She turned her focus back to Solas, letting Ash think. “So did the Fade have effect?”

“Yes, but not how you think. The child has no magical capability. Or, rather, hadn't had any. What we just felt, what you saw—that is the response, the effect. He is no more mage than you are, but he has been given a gift of resistance, like a neutralizing ability a Templar or our Seeker has, but...natural. No lyrium, no training.” Solas shook his head, smiling. “There is no limit to the things that can happen with the Fade. I suspect the danger and stress created a need for protection, and a spirit might have intervened and blessed him in the middle of everything we experienced. It is possible. Didn't the spirit we spoke with that appeared as the Divine...talk to you?”

“It said randomly that all would come through. I had no idea what it meant.”

“All...all three of you would survive fine.” Solas sighed, happily mystified in thought.

“My son....” Ash almost stared a hole through the elf, clearly still focused on the news. “He is not _saarebas_.”

“Not at all. The opposite. And very protective, even at this stage. I could sense much love there for you, Hawke.” Solas brushed his legs off and stood, still smiling. “I apologize. I am fascinated by this. From what I can guess about human pregnancy, it is still so...so tiny in this stage, but...how promising already.”

“I'm sure. Imagine our thoughts.”

“I could only try. I promise you, though, that he is healthy. Strong. But no more Fade trips, no magical fights, yes? If he is too stressed, he might overdo and sap himself, effectively terminate his carrying in you. You'll have to be careful until he's born, and be prepared for little, weird things to happen after it.”

“Maker,” Hawke simply whispered.

Solas nodded, glad she was in awe as he was. “It would be wise to teach him not to fear magic, not to instinctively rebound and attack all of it near him. If he doesn't see the differences, he will live a life of fear and accidental murder. But given proper guidance, he will be a good protector, yet understanding.”

Hawke felt more reassured by the elf's words and swallowed. “I suppose having Bethany as his aunt will go a long way to helping that.”

Both noted Ash frowning again, still touching her belly, probably a bit uncomfortable about the idea of a mage helping raise his child. Hawke was a little worried about the conversation it would undoubtedly bring up.

Solas tipped his head. “He takes after you—feels Qunari in nature. He will be very tall, very strong. Very...Qunari, as I said. Best brace yourself, Hawke.”

“Your blood is strong,” Hawke smiled at Ash as the giant relaxed a little.

“Yes,” he replied like it was the most obvious, truest statement ever made in the world.

“Pff.” She laughed, just relieved to the Fade and back. “Solas, how can I thank you for your help?”

“No recompense is necessary. It was an honor for me to witness something like this. Please keep me updated over time, if you're fine with doing so.” But suddenly the jovial expression darkened a bit, worrying her before he snapped out of it. “I...pray the world remains together long enough for him to know it.”

Oh. Yeah. Hawke sighed deeply. “Yes.”

“So if you didn't know...you were going to stay in place of Stroud, yes? What changed?” Solas frowned as he thought back, then glanced at Ash. “You stopped her. You knew?”

Ash grunted and rose up, hand twitching as he pulled it back from her belly like he hadn't wanted to let go. “I had been suspicious. The scent change caught my attention. I have broken the Qun enough to desire her presence, but...instinct refused to leave her behind.”

“Ah. So something inside of you knew for certain anyway.” Solas quirked his lips a little in thought. “Fascinating. Between both of your abilities, your offspring should be...a force of nature.”

Ash smirked a little, relaxing. “My blood is strong. Hawke is self-crafted in her talent and determination. Our _imekari_ will be conquerors and warriors.”

“Planning on more than one?” Solas asked, brows rising as his lips twitched.

Hawke snickered and tapped Ash's hip with her gauntlet. “At this point I'm accepting it as part of the experience, especially if we have already beaten the rare odds.”

“Is it rare? It must be. Not anything I've considered before.”

“Yeah. Human-born Qunari happen, but it usually takes a lot. Women die in the birthing frequently.”

“Then you'd best be careful,” Solas bowed his head. “I wish you well.”

“It...may not be the first _imekari_ I have given, but it...he...is the first I will rear myself or...know.” Ash grunted, sniffing near her and seeming pleased with whatever it was he'd smelled. “It was the way under the Qun.”

Solas struggled not to say something, Hawke could tell. So she intervened. “There are experiences worth having this way.”

Ash smiled a little and stroked her head with a huge hand, fingers gently brushing her bangs from her face. “Yes.”

Solas relaxed and bowed. “I will leave you be. Should you require assistance, I will be nearby in camp. Do not worry—this is your news to share, not mine.”

Hawke thanked him again, Ash nodding his own, and they watched the elf leave quietly, obviously in thought. They didn't speak for a few moments, both just overwhelmed. Hawke finally sighed and bent forward, fingers propping up her chin as she studied the sandy floor. The Wardens had proved their corruption. Her allies had physically entered the Fade alongside her. They'd retaken Adamant. And she was pregnant with a strong, protective son, a boy who would grow to be like his father in looks and power, able to protect himself from magic, at least to a degree, with a sort of neutralizing ability.

Somewhere along the way, her day had completely gone off schedule.

 


	19. Priority Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash wonders at their news while Hawke panics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

It was obvious the elven mage had not spoken of their discussion. There were no weird looks or words spoken about the news at all as they'd reappeared, supped, and prepared to rest.

Talks were planned for the morning to decide the multiple steps forward for everyone, and Ash had no idea where it would put he and Hawke. All he knew was he wanted to get far away, get she and his child far away where they could be protected. Because if it became easy knowledge that his rut had been successful, that he'd bore an _imekari_ outside of the Qun, it was likely the assassins hunting Hawke would have a second contract for the child itself. And if not a killing of the child and Hawke simultaneously, then kidnapping to bring it under the Qun as an insult to Ash, a being they would fully control if they didn't kill it for fear of corruption.

Deep down inside of himself was fear. Great fear. Not only was he without Qun, without “order” or “purpose,” but he'd discovered the emotions he'd been restricted in feeling for so long, always so busy and dutiful. They had given him Hawke, his _kadan_ and support. And now combined, it had all given him an _imekari_. A child he could know and raise personally, not only be told had been successfully bred. He'd not lied to Hawke about that; in the past he'd sired quite possibly a dozen of them, never knowing any. Thinking of them now made him wonder how many sons and daughters he'd had, how strong they might be, what roles they kept in the Qun. As he'd not been allowed to know them, they'd not known him. It wasn't anything personal in the Qun, just another way of order and barrier from distraction. He'd given more up than he'd ever known.

And now he had a child he would see grow, see born and rise up in power like his own. A little warrior already, so tiny and yet so strong when he shocked the mage with Solas's own magic. Ash smiled in the tent, the grin unstoppable. Even his son didn't like magic. Of course Ash had understood the elf's advice about raising the child with understanding to avoid needless pain and deaths; it made sense, and Ash was going to have to concede in some areas with magic because of his _kadan's_ blood and family. But to know _his son_ had survived the Fade itself! That he'd acquired power to repel magic instead of being corrupted!

The smile still sat on his face, though the grin softened a little.

Hawke stirred a little in her sleep, small nonsensical noises coming from her as she rolled over. Ash waited until she'd resettled, then curled around her, dropping his hand to caress her shoulder, her ribs and hip before it rested carefully upon her belly. Ash closed his eyes and sniffed her, spreading his fingers to encompass her small stomach protectively. Her scent had slowly changed, gotten stronger as his child began to grow. She now smelled...full. If that made sense. It was some strange thing that made him feel content, not desperate. Sated, not drowning in want so much. Of course, he still mated her; she desired him often, and Qunari didn't have qualms about that, though usually once an _imekari_ had been successfully given into a womb, the female carrying tended to be isolated with similar females and priests and Healers. Very trained servants served as their Healers for that time if release was needed. 

As...harsh as it might sound, Ash considered _this_ child to be his first and only thus far. He'd had no chance to know the others, had believed in the Qun too much to even care he'd had them. They had been but another duty to perform. There was no personal connection on either end, no ties. So he might think about them now, but he felt no guilt because he knew they wouldn't. If someone approached one of his sired _imekari_ now, they'd probably want nothing to do with him—they never would have needed it, either, growing and getting their own roles and assignments. So this little one...it was fascinating. And a Qunari in nature, not so human, but with the strengths of both of his parents. The mage had said the child had no magic ability before the Fade as well; Ash's blood might then be strong enough to dominate the magic in Hawke's father's blood and keep it subdued for their offspring. Because if this went well, if the magister was put down and his son raised well, Ash _did_ have plans for more. He just hoped Hawke would handle it.

He curled more around her, his face settling above her head and his hand not moving from her belly. There was a slight curve there, but it wasn't nearly noticeable enough, especially with her armor on. But soon that would change. Eyes closed, he thought back to her words in that tavern when she'd played cards with the dwarf the first time. “Imagine me swelling with your seed and tell me you don't want to try,” she'd teased in his ear. The very idea had been enough to interest him beyond their previous discussion, though of course neither had expected it so soon.

Since they'd had regular sex, Ash himself hadn't believed his rut would be activated. But it had come, she had taken it and enjoyed it without fear, and her body had accepted his gift. She was...extremely giving and gracious, and it made him feel secure.

Ash fell into a deep sleep that night, dreaming not of the terrors he saw in the Fade or the fighting, but of a home. Sand and warmth. A small child with a little wooden sword. And it was good.

 

 

[-------------------------------]

 

 

 

The next day was a long one. Lots of body removal and burning, rubble shifting, and talks. Ash once had the patience for all of it in his role, but now it irritated him. He wanted it to be finished and gone, was more than ready to grab Hawke and run. He felt...itchy.

Ash made sure Hawke had eaten a light breakfast and then a large lunch, a watchful eye always on her. The moment she looked tired, he pulled her against him, letting her rest her eyes if only for a minute. The second she got weary of discussion, he grunted out a response on her behalf that more often than not startled the others and got her out of the room for a while. And that elf mage had just smiled, knowingly and kindly, though with a hint of sadness. There was _much_ more to that being than was known, Ash had no doubt. The elf wielded regret like Hawke did guilt.

The Inquisitor had to get back to Skyhold. There was no delaying it. Political tensions were about to erupt over the Warden matter with the Conclave, and even the Qunari in Par Vollen would be watching the results, probably guiding it from the shadows. Ash wanted no where near it when the implosion happened.

“I must see to many tasks when I return; we have news coming in from camps in several areas now tracking Red Templar movements. We have until the Winter Ball before I go to Halamshiral and deal with...that mess.” The Inquisitor sighed, rubbing his temples with his slim, long fingers. “I cannot _stand_ Orlais.”

Cassandra chuckled and patted his back, her eyes soft on the elf. “It is fine, Feran. No one outside of Orlais truly can. And, since I hate dancing, I will...I suppose go with you if you wish to shoulder the burden of dealing with nobility in Orlais.”

Ash's eyes moved as the Blackwall Warden entered, shifting. He gave a report on progress of the day concerning the fortress and moods of the Wardens involved. The elf seemed satisfied with it, dismissing him to duty or dinner, whichever the man preferred. Blackwall tilted his head and went to leave, no doubt back to help, his eyes pausing briefly as they caught Ash's. What _was_ the secret this man held? For that matter, what was the secret Solas kept so guarded? And how was it that _none_ saw these silences? The Bull Qunari at least noticed behaviors, even if he said nothing to throw off the balance of knowledge.

“Hawke, what are your plans?”

Ash's head snapped to his _kadan_. She sighed and looked over the maps and letters scattered on a table in front of her. “I must check on my sister. I need to know she's still safe. After that, I can maybe try to help track Cousland if you've not yet made contact. As my journey will take me around Denerim, I can request audience for the King and personally deliver any messages you have. I want to be there when you go for this magister, even if it's a while yet. I know the rifts and the Red Templars are your focus, and that's fine for now. So long as there is progress, there is no concern. I'd rather dismantle Corypheus's armies and tools before taking him on. He was hard enough solo without these new powers. You'll have to find something to deal with that dragon, Inquisitor.”

“Understood. I'll have letters for you to take from Leliana for Alistair. That will be a fantastic help, Hawke, you have my thanks,” the Inquisitor said, smiling a little. “I don't suppose you'll join so I can actually _pay_ you well and outfit you.”

“Nothing formal. You don't need more problems, and I can't...guarantee I'm always going to be available.”

Feran nodded in understanding despite not knowing her true meaning. “Cassandra, make sure Josephine is aware Hawke and Ash will be given due and will have needs. I want them paid for their services.”

“Of course.”

“Rest, take what you need. I can possibly send a small group with you for protection,” Feran offered, frowning a little in concern. “It is...a seriously far trek. You should stop at our camps and Skyhold for resupply and news. I'll be sure you're given papers.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor.” Hawke shifted, uncomfortable. Ash twitched. “We will travel alone.”

“You're certain?”

“It is for the best. We travel quickly and precisely with the two of us, and we can take routes much easier without a company. It's how we got past most of the danger to Crestwood.”

The Inquisitor shrugged, but respectfully tilted his face. “Very well.”

“We leave tomorrow,” Ash grunted, already wanting away from the throng of people. If they had to stop at some of the smaller camps, he'd tolerate it. But he needed to keep her safe, and he was just glad the child's existence had rammed that idea into her stubborn skull.

Hawke nodded, satisfied with that. “We shall resupply and ready tonight, as before. Thank you.”

They dismissed themselves, no questions plaguing them. Just acceptance. It was nice not to have orders anymore, he supposed as he followed her back out of the meeting area that had been set up. They checked their personal items, made lists of what would need restocked for the journey, at least to Skyhold.

When Hawke got the rations and potions managed successfully, Ash steered her toward the fortress's old armory. A single blacksmith had managed to set up temporarily to repair armor and weapons for those moving onward. They sat a while, watching as the human fixed parts of Hawke's armor, giving it all new straps.

Once Ash was happy with the result, he took it himself and walked with her back to their personal tent. He grabbed the oiling and rags, and began work, buffing her armor and treating it. Hawke lay in the tent in her new underclothes, feeling a bit drained from the stress of the last few days. Ash let her rest as he finished his first task after a while of meticulous work. He then picked up the whetstone and supplies and sharpened her daggers until he deemed them worthy. Hawke woke later as he was sharpening his own weapons.

She flipped the canvas up, sitting on her knees. Her eyes caught her newly cared for armor and weapons next to him. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I wished to.”

“Then let me tend yours.”

“Rest, _kadan_.”

Hawke almost seethed, and he blinked at it. “I am not a weakling. I am pregnant,” she hissed and tried to reach for the supplies.

Ash raised his brows. He wasn't sure if this was Hawke's own influence or the Qunari blood of the child inside her. Instead of handing her one of his heavy weapons, he unsnapped his chest piece and gave her that. Hawke took it happily, sass dropping and face smiling, and sat near the now open tent entrance, humming as she treated the leather with serious care.

“You're not gonna be one of those breathe-down-my-neck fathers, are you?”

His brows turned down as he considered the phrasing. “I do breathe on your neck. In sleep.”

“Oh never mind,” she grumbled. “I meant if you'd be controlling and over-protective during everything.”

Ah. Now the phrase made sense. Ash considered her question and why she'd ask. Hawke was very independent, used to making life-altering decisions and carrying the weight of that alone. And she wasn't in that situation anymore. It wasn't necessary for her to be so isolated, even with companions. “I do not underestimate you,” he began, flipping the ax in his hand and eyeing it. “You are competent. I merely wish to see you kept healthy.”

“I can do that.”

“Yes, while you stress and put off everything to deal with other matters.”

Hawke paused in wiping the leather. “I wasn't aware I even had...something growing in me before, Ash.”

“And now that you know? What changes, Hawke?”

“Everything,” she whispered, staring down at the leather in shock. “Everything changes. The way I fight, if I fight, learning to hide instead, that another life depends entirely upon my protection and care. That from now on I will always have to...be responsible for someone else and forever protect and love them. Everything...changes. Maker, Ash, I will be a _mother_.”

Ash lay the ax down on a bit of cloth and shifted his sword into the same hand, preparing to treat it. He sighed and looked to her, eyes seeing the stress, the worry. “ _Parshaara_ , _kadan_. You are not alone. But we must take care. I do not know what could be leveled against him with the contracts.”

Hawke dropped his chest band and began hyperventilating. Ash immediately sat down the sword and slid in the tent a bit on his hands and knees. He pressed his strong brow to hers, rubbing gently and rumbling deeply to calm her. “No one will hurt you. No one will hurt our son. You have my word, Hawke, so long as I breathe, I will protect you.”

“T-Thank you,” she stuttered out as she gasped for air.

“Shh. Calm.”

“T-Trying. I h-hadn't thought...it's so new....”

Ash studied her face as she tried to take control of her panic and slowly made progress: her breathing began to even, her movements stilling. Eyes closing. She was beautiful, even with bits of sand in her hair and dirt on her cheek. The mother of his _imekari_. His amazing _kadan_. His chest tightened with emotion he'd grown to recognize, and he leaned forward, pressing his mouth over hers. Hawke opened her eyes and kissed him back, her arms winding up around his neck, fingers in his long hair. Ash broke the passionate kiss, searching her. A slight smile caught the crook of his mouth, and he rumbled again, bumped her brow and climbed back out of the tent to finish his work on the sword.

Hawke wiped her eyes and picked his chest pieces into her lap. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Never apologize for such things. Knowing danger and doing all you can is not weak. Wanting to protect our _imekari_ makes you strong.”

“Thanks.” She huffed at some of her hair that had come loose from the leather tie as the wind picked up a little.

Ash froze, just in awe of her strength as she focused on his armor, putting all her energy into it. The sun caught her golden hair as it hung in its tail over her shoulder and down to her swelling breasts in the small clothes. Pale skin tanned from the sun's rays in the desert. Dark lashes swept down as she stretched and got across the entire chest plate in one go. He hardened as if she'd touched his body, stroking and licking all over him.

A light cough came from his chest as he tried to shake it off and refocus.

“I love you,” she said quietly.

Ash smiled to himself, deciding to try something for the first time. “And I you...Camilla.”

The loud thump of his armor being dropped in shock made him chuckle.

 

 


	20. Horns Above the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But danger, Ash knew, waited until you were looking elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was difficult trying to remember some plausible role terminology from Trespasser and the like. Did some research. Sticking with these for now. The individual in question is young and malleable, of course, bent into shape by the mold of role, but hearing such shocking personal truth has, naturally, sparked some questions and vulnerability that he would have unlikely had otherwise in such a moment. There is anger, there is shame, but there is far more curiosity.  
> It'll all tie together, regardless, including a later discussion with Hawke as to respective ages and timelines.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> Qunlat help thanks to http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Qunlat

 

 

 

Yeah, travel was _going_ to be the death of her.

They took the same route back toward Skyhold, watching for familiar path signs and following their map. In their possession were secured letters, a writ from the Inquisitor to give them passage and protection, and a few small surprises Solas had given them.

As they packed the mounts, the elf had sauntered over, trying to look as if nothing important were about to happen. He'd stopped Hawke from getting on her horse and brought out a small pouch. Inside were vials of extra medicines and herbs. The herbs were for tea that Solas claimed was used by elves to settle an excitable child in the womb and relax the mother as well. Shocked the elf had thought of her that way, she'd nearly hugged him, but settled for shaking his hand vigorously with both of hers and getting a huge smile from the mage in return.

“It is my gift to you,” he'd said softly, again that strange hint of sadness crossing his face as he bowed and waved them onward.

Ash, of course, had sniffed everything himself until he could confirm nothing was poisoned or tampered with in any shape.

They stopped by the Graves camp they'd used for relief and resupply. Hawke was starting to feel some signs of the pregnancy now—breast soreness and swelling, for instance, that caused her to have to get help expanding her breast band. It also made her armor not go on as tightly, so as to spare her pain. Her stomach alternatively demanded food, then threatened to rid itself of the nutrients. It drove her crazy until she debated it must be what the human-Qunari baby did and didn't handle well, and so she changed her diet toward things that tended to stay down the best. Consequently, they ate lots of august ram meats that Ash had caught and both cooked and dried. Fish was also something she craved, though for the life of her she wasn't sure why. Maybe a Qunari favored thing. And spice on everything—definitely Qunari; Fereldens were notoriously bland.

As they sat near their old spot, tent up and fire going, Hawke stared at the flames, mesmerized. It was constantly hitting her now that the world was in all kinds of danger and here she was...pregnant. She'd call herself irresponsible if she hadn't gotten a thousand lectures on why she wasn't the sole person to fix the world from Ash.

“ _Kadan_ ,” he quietly called from inside the tent as he finished readying their bed. “Come.”

Hawke yawned a protest, then gave up and slid inside tiredly. Ash looked her over before pulling her to him. A low rumble started in his chest until it became a hum that vibrated through him and through her. It was calming. Soothing. Even the baby must have thought so because her stomach relaxed its previously nauseous behavior. A large gray hand settled over her belly, and Hawke looked down in awe. She'd not noticed the bit of swelling starting there, not with everything going on and her head in the clouds for it.

“Wow,” she whispered. Then, with a giggle, she curled into him. “My friends would _crap_ themselves if they knew I'd gotten with you and...well, this.”

Ash snickered above her, lips grazing her hair. “Strange...friends, then.”

“You know what I mean,” she teased back, fingers resting over his much larger ones. Hawke suddenly quieted, her voice almost a gasp. “How...did we get here?”

He said nothing for a while, thinking, and then, “Fated choice.”

“Fate, really? Thought you didn't believe in fate.”

“The Qun dictates order and choice within role. Fate has no part in it.”

“So why fate now?”

“Because there is no other reason so many things would have come to pass,” Ash mumbled, tired as well. “Your fighting the magister, his revival, the Inquisition, all of that...let alone our tale. There is some hidden hand somewhere. We made the choices that led us here, guided by fated events.”

“No regrets?” she asked softly, cheek to his chest.

Ash nuzzled her brow gently, fingers gripping the little curve of her belly. “No.”

“Not even for losing the Qun?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why so many questions?” he asked exasperatedly. “Rest.”

Hawke flicked his pectoral muscle with her finger nail. “Answer the last one, please.”

Ash sighed above her. “I have...considered some things since leaving the Qun.”

“Like?”

“I answered. Rest.”

“But that's not an answer, not fully,” she said and rolled a little until her stomach pressed to his. Hawke rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. “Does being without the Qun frighten you? Will you force it on...on....”

“No. I am without Qun, therefore I cannot convert our _imekari_ to it. I am no priest,” Ash replied, eyes heavily dropping. “Being...without Qun is...disturbing at first. I found myself with no order, no role, no purpose...no life. Some see such freedom as death because of all the possible corruption. You have given me order and purpose since. And although I still agree with the order under the Qun, there are aspects I do not...quite agree with now.”

Hawke's brows rose at the admittedly tough honesty that took to say. “Like emotional bonds?”

“Yes. Without them I do not have my _kadan_...or my son to know. That is not to say I do not see why such restrictions exist for the Qun to function as it does.”

Her fingers trailed up his chest to rest on his jaw, touching a little there. “Ash, are you...excited for the baby?”

Ash's gold-black eyes rested on her, so many emotions running through them that she couldn't name them all fast enough. “Yes.”

“Good,” Hawke smiled and turned her chin to rest her cheek to him once more. A yawn escaped her, and she snuggled into him as the bear fur settled over her.

 

 

 

[---------------------------]

 

 

 

A couple of weeks passed before they'd gotten toward the path into Ferelden and near Skyhold. Each day of quiet was relief, each hour of passage free of attack reassurance that their leaving alone had been the right idea. But danger, Ash knew, waited until you were looking elsewhere.

He saw them too late.

White furs and white _vitaar_ paints to cover them in the snowy land, even on their horns. Their mounts trailed along the now worn path from Inquisition soldiers, and there not far from the trek up to Skyhold itself the danger finally came into being.

Ash tightly gripped his fear, leashing it to stay calm as Hawke finished emptying her bladder nearby with as much dignity as possible.

Fire burned inside of him, fury he'd never been able to fully unleash. Not until now. All of the anger from his tortures as they went beyond punishment and into something else...it came back in full force. The constant fear of assassins had finally come into fruition.

“Hawke. Camilla,” he whispered hotly, not letting his body betray that he'd seen them. “Walk away. When you get to the tree, run. Do not stop.”

“What?” she asked quietly as she fastened the buttons on her pants.

It was too late. They were moving forward, quickly, with their disguises.

“ _Run! Teth a!_ ” he shouted and yanked his weapons out, bracing himself.

Hawke took one look past him, saw the horns break the snow line and the faces erupt as they stopped hiding. Instantly she touched his arm, looked him in the eye, and _mercifully_ obeyed him. She took off running the opposite direction, back toward the way they'd come. Her mount was nearby, and if she could make it safely to the mare, she might have the best chance.

Three of them, all Karasaad, charged him head on in their red armor with the white paint, weapons clashing against his sword and ax. Ash roared dangerously and slammed into one of the Qunari, a smaller male, ax swinging to block its attack as another swung from his left. He jumped back and brought his sword forward, then pivoted quickly and brought it back and down, slicing right through the warrior on his left. Down to two, he fought with all he had, knowing he would gladly _die_ to give her the chance to flee. To save her, to save his son inside of her. _Nothing_ had ever mattered so much in his life than that, and the realization burned him, gave him more energy and power as he blocked and parried, spun and swung, decapitating a second warrior with a loud bellow that shook the valley.

The scream changed everything. Ash jerked, mouth dropping open in a snarl as he watched a Qunari Salit rogue appear behind Hawke and grab a hold of her. Hawke screamed and thrashed, kicked, scratched with her gauntlets, and then very suddenly went limp as the rogue raised a dagger up.

Ash snapped. The next moments were blurs as he charged, leaving the last Qunari behind him. He couldn't risk a throw with a weapon, not with Hawke so close as the rogue stole her mount and yanked her in a half-hold to the rogue's side; Hawke dangerously hung, limbs flailing as the startled horse jolted and took off.

They were _taking_ her, alive or not.

Ash ran as fast as possible toward the stallion that had completely freaked out, rearing up and bellowing its own calls of anger. The remaining Karasaad's steps were loud behind Ash as he closed in and literally jumped somewhat, landing on the thicker stallion with thankfully not enough force to kill it or break its back. The animal reared once, then took off at a dangerous pace. Ash tried to keep balance and holstered the ax, keeping the sword in one hand and freeing the other to catch her if he could.

Gold-rimmed eyes never left the mare in front of him as the stallion began to gain ground and catch up. He could only hope there wasn't a larger force hiding that would entrap he and Hawke, that if he took the mare down, he could save her. Stop this.

His boots spurred the stallion faster as he shouted, screaming her name to see if she'd respond, give any sign she was alive.

No change. No screaming. Terrified, Ash yanked the reigns until the stallion wove closer and closer. The rogue came into clear view then, a female Qunari with a look of utter hate on her face as she saw him. She bared her teeth, challenging him to get his mate back from her grasp as Hawke hung, bouncing off the side of the mare and barely avoiding smashing her head into the ground.

Ash roared and yanked the reigns hard until the stallion was almost upon the mare, stumbling to catch itself as it went off balance. He was close, so close to reaching her. Hawke had blood streaming from a wound to her head, something most likely meant to incapacitate and not kill. A slight amount of relief went through him at that, and he focused on the rogue who snarled at him and kicked at the mare to outrun him.

But he'd gotten enough of a lead. Ash swung his sword, and the rogue veered the mare to the left in front of him to avoid the strike. He cursed in Qunlat and followed the trail, knowing he was probably going to have to kill the horse to save Hawke.

A sudden split in the ground broke his plan. The rogue took the higher path, Hawke dangling over the edge with just the rogue's hand around her leg to keep her secure. Ash kicked the stallion to run faster and swung him around at the last second where the ground that had split reconnected in his path. The mare was approaching so fast that a collision was unavoidable, and the horses connected with screams of pain.

Bodies were tossed as the animals buckled, legs giving out. The mare flipped over the stallion, landing on her side as the male kicked his legs in the air in shock. Ash landed feet away, sword still thankfully in his hand. The Qunari Salit rogue was instantly on her feet as she backtracked down the hill, tossing a still-unconscious Hawke over her shoulder like a sack. Ash ran after her, infuriated. The female Qunari was extremely light on her feet and trained well, dashing and zigzagging, keeping him thrown off a full charge.

Just as he managed to close feet of distance by leaping over a larger portion of rock, something amazing happened. The Karasaad that he'd run from to chase the rogue appeared.

Ash steeled his nerves, ready to slaughter both. The rogue looked as if planning to run past the Karasaad, but the male looked at Ash once, eyes harshly weighing with a look that almost made Ash stop moving. A huge arm shot out and clothes-lined the rogue, knocking her back on her ass and loosening her grip on Hawke; the human went sprawling a couple of feet away, thankfully landing on her back.

“ _Vashedan!_ What are you doing!” the female shouted and leaped to her feet as she accused the Karasaad. Ash took a running leap and came down between the Qunari and Hawke, snapping out his ax again and bracing himself. The Salit rogue turned, blades drawn. “Grab the _bas._ I will take the traitor.”

The remaining Karasaad stared at him again. Ash didn't recognize the younger male by scent or looks, so it wasn't one of his past men; he seemed, in fact, just on the brink of adulthood and new to his role—odd for one so young, not unlike his own past. The Qun wouldn't have sent one of his loyalists anyway, unless absolutely certain of any reeducation in the chance that the Qunari would show loyalty and spare him. Ash blocked the first attack of the rogue, her daggers sparking off his sword while she jumped back, sparing her torso from his ax swing. She sneered and tried again, this time managing to stab him, piercing his chest armor in the process. Ash roared and slammed his head to hers before she could retract; the impact knocked her off balance, cost her precious seconds.

“ _You will not touch her!_ ” he shouted in Qunlat, voice thundering through the air and echoing off the mountains. “ _Itwa-adim._ ”

“Traitor! _Dathrasi!_ Your head is free to take after what you've done! Killed a Qunari on mission, and for what? This _pathetic bas_? _Katara!_ ”

“I left the excuse of an assassin alive with a mage. I killed none, but I will now. I will be your _Katari_ , _Salit_.” Ash bared his teeth and rotated his weapons with ease, attacking her with a feint and pushing her back. “I am exiled! Is it not _enough_ for the Qun's own rules?”

“Not anymore. You are not _low_ as you _deserve_ ,” she snarled and ordered the younger male. “ _Vinek kathas_ , Karasaad!”

Weapons blinded in the sun, clashing hard enough to shake Ash's arms as he kept the two Qunari from Hawke.

Parry, parry, twist, duck back, blow from the left, distraction, don't _blink_.

Ash shouted in pain as the rogue landed on his back, daggers sinking in his shoulders to keep herself there while he tangled with the male. Ash couldn't shake her grip, couldn't drop his own weapons to yank her off, not as the Karasaad's sword swung again to be blocked.

Terror gripped his belly as the thought of semi-defeat closed in. But if he were to be defeated, it would not be without glory.

The next second the Karasaad attacked, Ash spun unexpectedly, baring the back of the rogue and laughing darkly as she screamed from the sword's unstopped blow. It didn't kill the female, but it loosened her grip enough that he flung her off a ways, her blades still in his back painfully cutting as he moved again. The female got to her feet and prepared to tackle into him, but a flash of metal whizzed past his head, skillfully thrown as he braced his weight against the younger male's weapon, pushing him back. Both males watched the knife pierce the rogue's chest, knocking her off her feet from the impact.

Heads turned, finding Hawke on her knees, wavering and panting. She spit blood and tried to crawl forward, anger unlike even that at Adamant touching her face. Ash took the distraction to slam into the Karasaad, knocking the male off the raised hill. He then immediately whipped around prepared to block the rogue, but Hawke had stalked over with almost singular purpose and slammed her foot down on the knife in the female's chest.

The rogue spit at her face and tried to yank the blade from her breast. Hawke lost her balance, clutching her head where she was still bleeding, so Ash immediately moved between them as the rogue got back to her feet, huffing hot breath. Just as he went to cut her in half, a sword erupted through the female's chest and neck, splattering blood all over Ash and Hawke. With a jerk the other male crunched the rogue down and yanked his sword back out.

The two now watched each other tensely, both waiting for the other to speak.

Hawke began shaking at that point from the cold, her wound and the shock and dropped to her knees for support before passing out. Before Ash could even go to her, the Karasaad shouted in surprisingly emotional fury and charged, head low and plowing into him, sliding him back several feet in the slick snow. Ash brought a knee up, taking the air from the Karasaad's lungs, and tossed him onto his back. With precise steps he stalked over, bringing his weapons down as the male struggled to his knees. Ash crossed his weapons, letting them nick gently against the other's skin as he held the Karasaad positioned for the kill.

“Why?” he asked, deadly.

“She deserved no command. She held hate, not clear thought to lead. Others wanted her to die on this mission.” The Karasaad's eyes were empty but for a dark burning look. “She carries papers. Take them if you wish. Rumors indicated you rutted the human. In case of successful breeding, she is to be taken. If she carries _imekari_ , she will be kept alive until they are birthed, then she will be killed publicly for her part in your corruption. The _imekari_ will be raised by those in the Qun, without knowledge of their sire and birth mother.”

At Ash's tensing of the blades to assassin's neck, the younger Qunari's eyes widened. “You have. Your rut _was_ successful. It is why you fight so.”

The sharp edges of the ax cut in a little more, blood dripping gently down in warning. Ash vibrated with rage. “Say your last words, and know that unless they come for your weapon, you die soulless out here.”

“A life for a life,” the Karasaad murmured, swallowing carefully as the sword pressed a slight bit harder. He blinked, eyes resting on Hawke's unconscious body before looking right into Ash with an emotional intensity rarely seen in the Qun. “My life for the one in her.”

“You murdered your own commander. If you believe me indebted to you for it beyond your orders, you are mistaken, _maraas imekari_.” Ash took a deep breath, ready to end it. “My son will be safer without knowledge that he exists.”

The sound of the Karasaad snorting was unexpected and made him pause, body straining with tension. “To finally meet you. To know that if the Qun were different, if time was different... _I_ would hear such devotion.”

Ash leaned in close with a tight frown and demanded, “Who _are_ you?”

“I never knew, not until I overheard whispers from the priests when you were exiled.” The Karasaad exhaled deeply, head bowing. “I...am yours.”

Ash's narrowed eyes rounded as his stomach tightened. “Clarify.”

“I am your first successful rutting. Your first _imekari_. I'd never known until then, but I'd admired you, followed you. Believed in you as the body of the Qun, like so many others.” The younger assassin looked up sharply, and in that moment Ash really looked at him, studied the face in detail and saw the truth in the words. The male shared his jaw, the shape of his eyes and his larger horns as they still matured. Surreal awe washed over him as he considered his first born. His _son_ , once faceless like the others but now...real. “When you became lost to the Qun, it was a blow. To hear it was for some _bas_ from that blasted city was worse.”

“She is _kadan._ She is my mate,” Ash growled in defense; his sired child or not, he'd been given up long before. Hawke mattered now, as did his true son inside of her, one the Qun could not take from him. “Watch your tongue, lest I remove it. You do not know her greatness and all she did for the Qunari during that time—though I see the others seem to not care to remember.”

The Karasaad said nothing in reply to the cracking words, his eyes resting on Hawke. “This _imekari_ she carries...how will it know of you?”

“Closely. Without the Qun I am not forbidden from raising him. I never before questioned the Qun, and so never knew my _imekari_. They were taken from me the moment they were made, and only news of success was ever given.” Ash dared not blink in case the Karasaad responded to the weakness. “You...were stolen long ago, and I, believing it right under the Qun, allowed it. You, too, must believe in this allowance if you are loyal to its philosophy and ways.”

His first born closed his eyes tightly in understanding. “I knew why, regardless of who my sire and birther were. Perhaps the Qun refuses us information of our identity to spare us this pain of knowledge. And so we are given the role, our individual purpose to the greater good.”

“Do not mistake simplification and control for nurturing,” Ash warned and, with the decision now made, pulled his weapons away, holstering them. The Karasaad rose from his knees, wiping at his neck where he'd lightly bled from minor cuts of the weapons. “It is a mistake I made, one I understand but see both truths. I have made my own purpose now. _Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit._ ”

Silence as he turned away and slung his cloak from his neck, hearing it rip around the daggers still painfully digging in his shoulders; he picked up Hawke's cold body in it and wrapped her tightly, holding her to his chest. He walked past the Karasaad toward the horses, surprised when the Karasaad followed him, grabbing the reigns of the mare and handing them over as Ash carefully climbed over the kneeling stallion with Hawke in his arms. The papers from the rogue's body followed the reigns.

Ash eyed his first born with strange emotion coursing through him. “I cannot claim you.”

“I know,” the Karasaad quietly replied. He was so young...and yet so ready. Ash was...proud in a way. “I expected as much and accept it. I suppose...I took this mission to meet you, even if we were successful. I wanted to look upon you myself, to know the truth. To know if my sire still held the honor he once had. And if I had to kill you myself in fight, I would have.”

The stallion shifted uncomfortably while the Karasaad searched him. “Go. I will not tell them she carries successfully; I will say that you were successful in fighting us off, leaving me to report back in your anger without success. But you must go, and you must hide well. Much bigger events are stirring, and it should take attention away soon, but until then you will be hunted by the contracts. Protect your female. Protect the _imekari_. But if we meet again, I will remember my purpose, sire or not, just as you will remember yours to them. You may not be of the Qun any longer, but I am, and my role is definitive.”

“I expect no less,” Ash softly said. “And so I hope to never see you again.”

“Yes.”

“I...wish to have known you,” Ash admitted. “I have thought of you and the others many times since the rutting, wondering of you.”

The Karasaad's face softened. “Appreciated, but unnecessary.”

Ash hesitantly reached out and clasped the male's upper arm.

A free hand came up to encompass Ash's. “A life for a life, as I said. You gave me life, and I will spare his now. May you disappear and guard him well. _Panahedan._ ”

“You have great honor, young one. That is no mistake of mine. _Asit tal-eb._ ” Ash bowed his head and bumped his brow to his first born's, catching the youth off-guard. The male's stance faltered, eyes closed tightly, and he rubbed back a little, hesitant at first, then stronger. It seemed even the Karasaad felt the Qun's bindings constricting when simple instinct wanted closeness and familial awareness.

Ash gently pulled away, nodded, and without a look back, set the stallion forward, leaving his first born behind, shedding the remains of his ties to the Qun completely with the action. The mare rode hard alongside them, her reigns firmly in one of his hands, and soon Skyhold was on the horizon, a more welcome sight than he would ever admit as he slowly, but surely, lost his own consciousness to blood loss, the cold, and the daggers in his back.

 


	21. Sucker Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Ash feel like hell, Dorian and Bull obligingly flirt, Cullen nearly shits himself, and Varric finds out what it's like to fly.  
> It's painful, he decides. It's fucking painful to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote most of these chapters over 2015-16, but this is one of my favorites still. Poor Varric. He's such a good bro.  
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

Varric was in a state of pure panic. Cullen had watch guards alert him personally that there was a Qunari rider quickly approaching with two horses, one of them riderless. He gathered Bull and Dorian and ran to meet in Cullen's own office, where the General had said he'd bring the former Arishok.

His heart tightened the moment he entered the office and found two bodies, not just the Qunari. Hawke was being unwrapped from the giant bear fur cloak Ash wore in the snow; there was a lot of blood in her hair, and it had dried as it dripped down her face and ear. Ash himself lay nearby, just as unconscious, on his stomach. Two blades stuck out of his shoulders, blood soaking his armor.

Bull took control of the situation before Varric could even snap out of the shock.

The Qunari barked orders at Dorian and Cullen, getting them moving for healing items and help. He called Varric over. “You take Hawke. Check her pulse, her heart rate, her head. Do not move her much.”

His friend then moved to disarm Ash carefully so the dagger problem could be addressed. Varric immediately complied and bent down near his best friend, heart in his throat as he checked over her face. He brought his fingers near her nose and felt warm air; a sigh of relief hit him hard at knowing she was alive. Her skin was very cold beneath his hand as he touched her brow and lifted her heavy head into his lap.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. I love you, so don't you fucking go anywhere,” he whispered, fingers lovingly brushing her bangs from her pale face.

While Varric checked her wound, wincing at what looked like a seriously nasty blunt hit from a pommel of some type, Bull tried to awaken Ash. Unable to get a rise of the damn near frozen Qunari, Bull bent near his side, looking up as Dorian entered with the healing poultices and salves, Cullen on his heels with bowls of water and rags. “Be ready. Cullen, might get that shield of yours out. He's not gonna know what's going on.”

Varric took a rag and wet it, beginning the task of cleaning the blood from Hawke's face and hoping the fur was warming her in the room. Bull took a deep breath, braced himself, and with a firm grip yanked the first dagger out of Ash's left shoulder. Ash rose up like a man possessed, roaring loud enough to rattle the glass of objects on Cullen's desk. Bull hissed out something in Qunlat, possibly an apology, before pulling the second dagger out. Ash shuddered and fell forward, collapsing back onto the floor. Instantly Dorian was over the Qunari, removing the upper armor without the blades in the way, cleaning the wounds and applying salve. Varric could see they weren't wide, but probably a bit deep.

Maker, what had happened?

Hawke hadn't even stirred at the thundering animalistic roar Ash had given before his collapse back into unconsciousness. What felt like hours passed as both people were treated for their bloody wounds and kept warmed in furs and small pouches with heated innards. Bull bent and retrieved some papers that were still in Ash's tight fist. His eyes scanned whatever was written there with deep concern, and he glanced back to the former Arishok with worry.

“What's going on, Bull?” Varric asked quietly, still holding Hawke.

“New orders. Hawke's to be taken. We had a spy with us at the Crestwood keep; must have caught on to their absence and reemergence. In case the rutting was successful, they've been ordered to take Hawke and bring her to Par Vollen. She'll be held prisoner, and if pregnant, carry the infant to term, where it will be separated from her at birth for the Qun. Then she will be killed for being the corruption agent in his ruin.” Bull balled the paper and threw it across Cullen's desk. Everyone instantly quieted at the words. “Someone's got their fucking knickers in a twist over him finding a new life. Guarantee it. They wanted him miserable in exile, and he's only besting them. _That_ is why I respect him beyond the past. No matter what is or isn't honorable, he is _strong_. No one fights the _qamek_ when they re-purpose you, but _he did_ , and I don't even know how. You _can't_ fight it. It's almost like...like being made Tranquil in a way.”

Varric bent and kissed Hawke's temple, resting his forehead there in worry and awe of Ash. He sighed. “Damn it, sweetheart, what have you gotten yourself into?”

Cullen blew out a breath, hand running through his ruffled hair. “We need a plan to protect them. This cannot happen again. I will not be responsible for some spy killing allies within the damn hold.”

“Oh, trust me, Red and I are having a chat,” Bull dangerously spoke. “We should have fucking known about Qunari movements this damn close to Skyhold. We're lucky it was them they were after, and not a fucking invasion at this point.”

It was absolutely disturbing, Varric had to agree.

He touched Hawke's cheek, glad to feel it much warmer after time had passed. He'd almost nodded off, holding her gently in his lap, when sudden noise caught everyone's attention.

Ash snapped his huge head up, snarling, and he swung a fist with wild eyes. Bull caught it with his hand, holding with pressure until Ash recognized him. Immediately the Qunari's head whipped as he searched for Hawke and saw her in Varric's lap. Sharp teeth bared and a low guttural growl threatened him that had Varric's spine tingle in instinctual fear.

Bull gripped the fist in his hand, trying to keep a hold of Ash. “Varric, get away. Now. You have to let her go. He's going on instinct.”

Varric absolutely didn't want to let Hawke go. It terrified him, that utter look of wild possession and anger in Ash's gaze, like Hawke was a predator's meal Varric had gotten too near. But he gently removed her head from his lap, letting her rest down upon the fur. Instantly Ash broke Bull's hold on his fist and lurched forward with an almost arrow-like release of tension. The gray giant crawled over Hawke, eyes searching her, nose scenting her head.

“Everybody back up,” Bull quietly said and took his own steps back.

Terrifying growls rolled through Ash as he yanked the fur open, baring Hawke's warming body. They'd stripped her of the armor to make it work faster, but had left her in her under clothes out of respect. Ash's nose dropped down her brow to her throat, trailed across her covered breasts and stopped at her belly. Varric frowned, absolutely puzzled and almost angry at the treatment, then froze.

All of them did.

Because the damn Qunari was nuzzling her stomach, growling differently; his tongue shot out and licked the skin there that was bared by the center fastening of her blouse. A giant hand covered over her belly as his huge head raised up to rest his nose in her throat. Then, with an almost sigh, Ash covered Hawke's body with most of his own, curling over her protectively. One eye was still wildly open on them across the room, and a low growl started again, rumbling the air around them.

If they'd thought him terrifying in Kirkwall on a fucking dais, they'd have shat themselves seeing this back then, because Varric would bet twenty sovereigns that Ash would have ripped his limbs off like an animal had he not left Hawke's side.

“Bull...what do we do here?” Cullen asked softly, not moving a muscle. It was like dealing with a huge bear with a cub or even a dragon with its hoard.

Their Qunari friend took a deep breath. “Don't move.”

“We...can't...just stand here,” Varric murmured, worried as fuck about why Ash had gone crazy over Hawke's stomach. Stupidly he took a slight step forward, trying to see if it had been swelled in a way he'd not noticed before when he'd hurriedly stripped her armor off, too preoccupied with getting her wrapped in the fur to care.

The fucking Qunari moved faster than Varric could blink.

Bull had tried to intervene as quickly as possible, but didn't make it before a giant fist cracked itself right into Varric's chest and flung him into the air a moment backward into Dorian and both of them into the wall with force.

Ash snarled, teeth bared, and growled some Qunlat out like an Orlesian lion if one could suddenly talk.

Varric tried to catch his breath, almost unable to, while Dorian tried to separate them in the tangle they'd gotten into. Maker, it felt like his fucking chest was broken. Dwarves could take some hits, and Varric was no exception, but _usually_ they were best _in armor_. Varric winced as a deep breath almost made him scream.

“S-Sparkler, you o-okay?” Varric hissed between his teeth.

Dorian groaned and helped Varric sit up against the wall next to him. “Maker, Varric, you're heavier than you look.”

“Honestly, be proud. That was a punch I didn't know you were gonna survive,” Bull teased as he bent before them. “You all right?”

“Well, I definitely have a throbbing headache,” Dorian complained, rubbing the back of his head.

Cullen handed the mage a healing potion, one of many they'd had for the two wounded parties. Dorian downed the vial and sighed.

Bull took another from Cullen and handed it to Varric. “Drink it. Hope it helps, but you're gonna have a _hell_ of a bruise, my friend. One for your stories.”

“No shit,” Varric groaned out, voice almost a whisper. “Bull...what'd he yell at me?”

“Something about ripping your hide like a ram's if you try again. Let's, uh, go with that.”

“ _Okay_ then! Maker's balls, don't worry, I learned.”

Ash was still staring at them, eyes narrowed like a predator defending its den. It took a while before the Qunari was satisfied that none were remotely moving close again, and he turned, lips brushing gently over Hawke's brow.

Varric almost broke out laughing, and would have if his damn chest didn't feel like a horse had stomped all over it; it was beyond ironic to see such gentleness from a giant who'd almost broken him in half with a single punch.

“Maker, I'm glad he really just wanted that book now,” Cullen grunted, a half-smile teasing Varric. “We'd have had more of a problem, huh.”

“Yeah. Andraste's sweet ass, Cullen, don't make me laugh.”

“Sorry.”

They kept to their side of the small room for a little while. Bull examined Varric's chest, and yep, there was a _seriously_ nasty bruise off-center on his skin. Bull whistled low, murmuring that if it had been just a fraction more centered, Varric probably would have died from a blow to the heart. Strong Qunari fingers pressed around it, testing for broken ribs or a broken sternum and thankfully, mercifully finding none. Bruised ribs, though? Several.

Varric sighed and took another health poultice and rubbed it onto the skin some, grumbling, “Now the ladies are gonna be too distracted by the bruise to notice the chest hair. Shit.”

“Yeah, but not many can say they took a punch like that from a Qunari and lived. From the _Arishok_ and lived. You'll be rolling in adoration in the tavern soon enough,” Bull assured him with a handsome smile. “Seriously, Varric, being a thick dwarf just saved your life.”

Suddenly their attention shifted as a small groan caught their ears. Ash was nuzzling Hawke as she grunted again and shifted under him. The Qunari growled a little, body pressing against hers.

Hawke twisted her face, then gasped loudly as she fully woke up. Varric watched silently, eyes widening as her hand shot down to her stomach and held it as she coughed.

It was all the proof he needed to validate Ash's behavior. Son of a bitch.

Ash held her hand there, brow rubbing hers. Hawke shuddered, eyes opening emotionally on the Qunari. “You saved me,” she whispered.

The gray giant flicked his eyes over Hawke's face once and kissed her deeply, slowly pulling away to rest his brow to hers. Dorian sighed next to Varric, hand cupping his chin. “Maker, how romantic despite it all. Do all Qunari kiss like that, with such claim?”

“I _do_ ,” came the grunt nearby from Bull as he smirked at the Tevinter mage. “Fuzzy memory, Vint?”

“Don't let me drink next time, then.”

Hawke shot up when the voices caught her attention, her brown eyes wide at all of them feet away. Ash growled and stilled her with his weight, yanking the fur back up and over them. Her gaze settled on Varric as he smiled at her, then winced.

“What in Maker's name happened?” she demanded.

Varric gritted his teeth as he tried to sit up better. “Boyfriend's got a hell of a punch, Hawke. _Nearly_ deadly.”

“What?” Hawke jerked her face to look at Ash as he settled over her, having been reassured that she was fine. “Did you _hit_ my best friend?”

Ash grunted something, but kept his face flat near her shoulder.

“Hey, I asked a question,” Hawke grunted back and poked his shoulder. “Why did you hit Varric?”

An immediate snarl rebounded in the room as he grabbed her wrist and held it away. Varric felt bad for Ash then. Poor guy. She'd dug in, too, with that bony finger of hers. “Hawke, he's got stab wounds on his back. Found him with two daggers in his shoulders.”

“Oh...oh shit, I'm so sorry, love,” Hawke profusely apologized, but leaned over to check and saw the bandages. “What...what happened?”

Ash sighed and shook his head, the last of the wildness leaving his eyes. Varric was fucking grateful, too. “Qunari attacked us when you...needed to stop. You received a head wound from a rogue that tried to kidnap you in the fight.”

“I...don't remember,” Hawke grunted in frustration, then looked to her small crowd. “What do you guys know?”

Cullen shrugged. “Came in on the black horse together, your mount riding beside. Both of you were out cold, barely on the animal. He'd wrapped you in his cloak.”

“Ash?”

“The...blades and the cold must have weakened me,” Ash finally said, eyes narrowed upon the floor. “I killed two assassins, then ran the horses into one another after I chased the rogue down. Fought over you. You became alert enough to throw a knife at the rogue and tried to...stomp it into her chest before you passed out again.”

Varric snorted, automatically able to see a barely conscious best friend of his doing just that.

“I...yes.” Hawke frowned. “Wait. There was another one. A male.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Ash closed his eyes. “That is for private discussion.”

“What, didn't you kill him?” Varric asked in confusion.

“Okay, okay, we'll talk about it.” Hawke interceded as Ash glared; she rubbed her face. “Bitch hit me hard with that pommel, didn't she.”

“Yes. Trust me, _kadan_ , she paid for that mistake.”

“I have no doubts,” Hawke murmured. “Maker, I feel out of it. Varric, that bruise looks _painful_.”

Varric chuckled and groaned. “Fuck, Hawke. Shut up a while.”

“How did he hit you?” she asked, frowning.

“How do you think? With a side of his fist. A huge, ridiculously powerful fist as big as my head.” Varric smiled at her worry. “Maker be praised, no broken ribs. Almost had a broken heart, though. I...got too close after he woke up and snapped. Was worried about you.”

“Varric, I adore you, but that was stupid.” Hawke laughed a second, shaking her head. “Bless you for trying.”

Varric shifted uncomfortably. “So, Hawke. Got, um...something you wanna tell me? 'Cause those papers he'd snagged off one of the attackers had some weird new orders, and...well, you both about shit bricks over your belly when each of you woke up.”

She turned a very bright shade of red. “I. I, um.”

“Do go on,” Varric teased with a small smile. “It's all right. I just wanna know what to do to help you.”

“Sit me up,” she quietly said, looking away. Ash complied, sitting himself up at an angle and letting her lean against him under the fur. “Did you get the birds from Adamant?”

“Yes. And Cullen returned a morning before you did,” Bull replied, tilting his huge horns. “Had lots of wounded men with him.”

Hawke closed her eyes tightly. “Cullen knows what happened.”

“Yes, I do,” Cullen replied. “I informed the rest as to the choice of keeping the Wardens with us under observation. It was not...immediately popular.”

“He's thinking ahead. Has to.” Hawke brushed her hair from her face tiredly. “Did Cullen tell you that we went through the Fade, like Lavellan had before?”

Varric's brows went up. “Yeah, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around that one, but you guys made it out. You owe me an entire book for that. Hawke, why do you look weird all of a sudden?”

“She tried to die,” Ash almost accused, expression darkening. “Tried to honorably stay behind to protect the rest leaving through a rift before the demon there could kill all. Her guilt is so poisonous that it blinded her to see that there was no guarantee her sacrifice would erase any of its venom.”

“Hawke,” Varric frowned, totally seeing her doing something like that. Shit, it worried him how badly her face had dropped at the dark tone Ash had taken on—definitely a reprimanding one, and though it had been aimed at his friend, even Varric felt like shit hearing it. “But...that's what Stroud did, right?”

“Yes, because...because Ash refused to let me do it.” Hawke's chin quivered, and she dropped her face. Immediately three grown men got extremely uncomfortable and excused themselves, leaving Varric to speak to the pair alone.

Varric stayed, not moving from his spot. Oh he understood—he'd been by her side all those years in Kirkwall and known she was capable of such things, that need to fix wrongs so heavily ingrained in her. But the thought she'd have been left to die there? It made him sick to think about. His eyes softened as hers welled up. “What happened, sweetheart? Talk to me.”

“I didn't know. I didn't know I was...am....”

“Carrying my _imekari_ ,” Ash finished gently.

It was confirmed. His best friend was pregnant, something they'd only joked about. _Holy_ shit. Varric slowly shifted until he could hug the wall and, with care, walked toward them. He smirked as he got close enough to say, “Gonna hit me if I hug her?”

“No.” Ash tilted his head. “You...triggered instinct.”

“Yeah, I caught that.” Varric gingerly sat down near Hawke, taking her hand that reached for him. “So...the rutting thing worked, huh.”

Hawke snorted, eyes soft on him. “Apparently so. He...could tell there'd been changes in me, but wasn't absolutely sure until the panic wouldn't let him leave me there. We...had Solas test the baby for any...any problems.”

“Shit.” Varric swallowed as he searched her pretty face. “Everything okay?”

“Well, we found out a few things. We think the spirit representing the Divine might have inadvertently done something. She said something to me at one point, but I didn't understand her reference,” Hawke began and slowly let her left hand drift to rest on her belly under the fur. “Solas says something blessed the baby in the Fade to protect it. When he tried to search for problems, it put up a type of shield, like a Templar does, but without lyrium. So...it has neutralizing capability. I...I felt almost _one_ with it, could feel its wish to protect me.”

Varric's brows went up almost into his hair. “Wow. That's... _wow_ , Hawke.”

“Right? Amazing. I was just so glad it lived, that it wasn't harmed or struggling with some sort of problem from the exposure,” Hawke said and wiped her eye. Ash rumbled softly as she leaned into him. A few quiet moments later, she smiled at Varric. “Solas...also mentioned that it was taking after Ash's blood. So, Varric dear, you got your giant nephew.”

A huge smile split Varric's face. “A boy? Wow! Maker, Hawke, we have to celebrate when you're well enough!”

“No.” Ash twitched as he put a protective arm around Hawke's middle. “None can know. It is too dangerous.”

Varric shrugged, understanding. “Fine, then, I'll have a small cake made and eat it in privacy. How's that?”

An annoyed grunt made him smile. Hawke looked up, her nose brushing Ash's strong chin. “Tell me about the last Qunari.”

“Later,” Ash grumbled, obviously not wanting to discuss it with anyone else but her. Varric could respect that and calmed Hawke down before she could protest.

“Well kiddos, my ass needs rest and a great beer. Maybe a lady to keep me warm tonight, so I can tell someone all about my valiant fight with a Qunari attacker.” Varric winked at Hawke and struggled to stand up again, finally getting it done with a grunt. “Rest easy. You don't have to relocate tonight. Cullen's gonna check on you later, probably. We just...we brought you here because we didn't know _what_ had happened, and Bull figured it the safest spot since no one would dare piss Cullen off.”

“Thank them for me,” Hawke said, a soft smile on her lips.

“Will do.”

“Hey. Thank _you_ ,” she said and leaned forward to gently hug Varric.

Varric smirked as he let go. “For what?”

Hawke flipped her hair a bit and brandished the little braid he'd woven there while waiting earlier. “No one braids my hair but you, and you only do it when I've been injured and you've cleaned me up.”

“Caught me,” Varric quietly laughed and waved. “Rest up, Hawke. Maker knows we all need it. And don't worry. I won't spill any beans about the baby. I want you guys safe. Congrats, okay?”

Ash bowed his head in thanks while Hawke winked at him. Varric gently opened the door, got through it, and closed it behind him. He shook his head a bit, trying to get all the information squared away and figured it probably wasn't gonna happen without a few ales, some healing potions, and a goodhearted wench.

 


	22. Equals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash finally explains, and Hawke discovers power she didn't know she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

It took two days before Ash finally told her, in detail, about the fight—but not about the other Qunari.

They'd relocated to a different room, one Bull himself had picked out for security. It was located somewhere below the kitchens and accessible only by those who knew the door was there. Until such time that they were ready to be revealed and have servants in and out, Bull or Dorian brought them dishes to eat and helped with anything because both were still recovering from wounds, too sapped to move much. Ash almost had infection set in his back wounds, and through everything the small one in his chest had almost been forgotten about. Hawke had serious headaches, struggling between the crack to the head she was still feeling and the uncomfortable, stressed baby growing inside of her.

Soon they'd be back to their previous room, deciding what to do, how to go forward with the letters for Denerim and Bethany. For now they rested, bored and frustrated. Ash had been quiet, even quieter than usual just with the two of them.

Hawke finally had enough. “It all comes back to the Karasaad. Something happened, and you're not the same.”

Ash stirred from his spot near the small, tiny window that looked out over the back of the mountain. He exhaled, turned, and moved to sit down beside where she was curled up in furs, hands on her belly in thought as she watched him. Gold eyes she loved glanced to her fingers, tightening.

“You didn't...make a deal, right?”

“Not...like that.”

Hawke let one hand rise up and rest against his cheek. “Talk to me, my love. Let me ease your burdens.”

“I...feel many things.” Ash locked his jaw before sighing and shifting, one large hand resting over her other on her stomach. “Fury. Disgust. Worry. Fear. Curiosity. All of them weak.”

“Not necessarily, Ash. They can be strengths as well, and you know it.”

“The Karasaad lives,” he quietly said, eyes on her belly. “He...helped stop the rogue. Claimed orders to remove her on the mission for her own misplacement as a leader.”

Hawke's brows went up as she considered his words, trying to remember anything beyond the fast images of the female Qunari, her knife being thrown. She couldn't see the face of the younger male that had been there, but she'd registered he'd been there all the same. “So he...let us go?”

“I nearly took his head. My weapons were at his throat, ready.”

“You changed your mind.” Hawke twisted her lips to the side. The only other time such a thing had happened to her knowledge was when he'd spared _her life_. Slowly a frown slid over her face. “Did you know him? Was he one of yours from before?”

Ash actually visibly _jerked_ as she asked, which meant a very positive yes. “Not...one of my soldiers or those in Kirkwall, no. And I didn't know him. Barely _of_ him.”

“I cannot read your mind, _kadan_ ,” she whispered and let her fingers rest on his strong chin.

The muscles in his throat roughly swallowed, his eyes still not leaving her stomach. Hawke had almost resigned herself to his silence again, but he suddenly spoke, catching her off-guard in the quiet lull. “My first.”

“Hm?” Hawke asked, blinking the light tiredness away.

“The Karasaad...was my first born.” Ash inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “One of many I was never to know, had given up willingly because the Qun demanded it. He...discovered his lineage, was prepared to kill me on the mission.”

Hawke gasped loudly. It made sense now. Too much sense. She felt absolutely horrible, hating that he'd been alone to deal with this, to have seen one of his children, a young son maturing into his own, try to kill him and then help. “What changed his mind?” she softly asked.

“When he realized the rumors were true. That my rut was successful with you. He said I fought hard enough to prove it. But...I believe what changed most was that he saw I held honor. The Qun must be shredding my image.” Ash grumbled low, eyes cracking open tiredly. “I told him no one would leave with my _kadan_ and son, that...the _sataa_ , the world, was best off not knowing my _imekari_ exists. He laughed, saying under different circumstances he would have...heard such words.”

“Ash....” Hawke didn't know what to say, what to do to comfort him.

“I let him keep his head, and he gave me their orders. A life for a life, he said, his last words I was going to allow—his I'd given him for the son in you.” Ash finally looked to her, measuring her against something in his mind that Hawke couldn't know. Gently he sat forward and cupped her face, bending and searching her eyes. “Do not mistake, Hawke. _Imekari_ of the past have no bond with me. Perhaps I...wonder of them now slightly, but then? No. I do not regret even that; the past is the past. It was not the way, and that is something they can understand unlike _bas_ who don't. I did not leave him without words of encouragement or...even the slightest affection because...I could see him struggle slightly as I did once with the Qun before I was removed. He stuck to the Qun, even as he returned my brief affection. Even still, Hawke, that Karasaad is _not_ _my_ _son_.”

“I don't...understand,” Hawke whispered, feeling greatly saddened for him. “Can he not be, even in your thoughts?”

Ash shook his head to the side. “No. I cannot claim him, ever. This he knows, this he accepts. But he asked about the child in you—how it would know of me. With intimacy, with personal touch. This...seemed to soothe him somehow. I do not think he realized even I carry great emotions. I was avatar of the body, not the soul.”

“He'd only had your reputation to go on before everything,” Hawke murmured, tilting her face in his large hands. “I'm sorry, love, but I am glad you parted amicably.”

“Should we meet again, Hawke, he _will_ try to kill me and take you. Do not pity, for he does not. He must prove his loyalty to them, and I do not fault him.” Ash gently pressed his warm lips to her brow and pulled her closer, huge body encompassing hers. “Understand, _kadan_ , that I would have killed him despite the knowledge if he had not backed down, and it is possible someday that I still might need to remove him. _Nothing_ matters more than you or the son inside of you. I claim you both, without Qun, and in leaving my first born behind and carrying you away, made it clear. No more ties to the Qun. My life exists with my _kadan_ and my son, my _true_ son. I am... _bas,_ unable to even be Tal-vashoth.”

Maker, the word sounded choked from him, like he'd just admitted to having disease or worse.

“You'll _never_ be _bas_ to me. You will always be the strongest, the wisest who left something he saw that while giving order also granted him confinement. That's not corruption, it's survival,” she assured him, lips pressing to his skin. Hawke swallowed tightly as she felt his chin brush her crown in appreciation of her words.

She couldn't imagine the emotional pain he'd gone through, the acceptance to kill his own child if he'd had to do so to keep her alive. It made her feel guilt, but then his words of warning about his first born leveled the guilt with some more understanding. There couldn't have been love lost between the father and son if none ever existed. It reassured her that Ash had at least left the Karasaad behind with some acknowledgment of thanks, of affection, as he'd said. But the emotional damage and growth would forever split him. She could only hope the child inside of her, the one he obviously already loved, would be enough to spare the pain in his heart. That the depth of love he felt for her would ease him more.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry you had so much to deal with alone.”

Ash grunted and gripped her tighter in his lap. “Hush.”

“I'm allowed to _feel_ for you, damn it!”

“I have shared my burden, as you asked. It, then, means I am not alone.”

“Yes, but let me feel sad for you, hope for you. Wish for you.” Hawke closed her dry eyes against his upper chest and neck. “I'm human, and I love strongly. Feel strongly. Wish to protect you as you do me.”

“Do you believe me to feel less?” he asked, voice almost lost in the quiet.

Hawke shook her head, nose under his jaw. “No. I expect you to still be trying to understand all you feel and accept it. You feel greatly, but without the openness or freedom I've always known. There is newness for you that you've discussed.”

“Mm.”

“I bet you were just glad I listened and didn't try to fight,” she said after some more silence.

An amused grunt she'd missed for two days touched her ears. “Very. The one time you _listen_.”

“Hey, I listen to you.”

Ash tilted her chin with a finger and looked at her, one brow raised and a smirk on his lips. “You hear words. You do not listen.”

“Then you do not _notice_ me listening,” Hawke teased back, sitting up in his arms and stroking his cheek. She stared at him. The light from the sun out of the small window brightened his snowy hair, highlighting his golden eyes against his pale gray and bronze skin. The gold bands on his dark horns shimmered. She flicked an ear with a grin. “You went through the Fade and lived. You're getting an earring.”

“If such a thing is victorious.”

“Are you _serious_ , Ash?”

Ash fought the grin struggling to claim him, his lips twitching as he tried to keep that firm, plain expression instead. “For _bas_ perhaps.”

“Arrogant arse,” she chuckled and pressed against him, arms around his neck, fingers in his hair. “Mm. I love your arrogance...most of the time.”

“I am not arrogant,” came the expected response to her bait.

“Love, you _define it._ Now, I didn't say it wasn't deserved, but....”

“Skill and prowess do not incur arrogance, Hawke. Arrogance comes from those overestimating such strengths.”

“Mm- _hm_.”

Ash looked over her face and ran a hand through her long golden hair. “You are beautiful,” he softly said. “The mother of my _imekari_ is strong. Bold. A chattering bird, but welcome.”

“Can't ever give me just a bit of lead, can you, love?”

“No.” Ash grinned then, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Hawke kissed his lips, teeth dragging over his lower one and getting a groan. “Question, dearest.”

“No, you've reached limit for the day.”

“Pff.” Hawke held his face as she kissed him again, seductive and sultry with her movements. Ash slowly gave in, hands changing their hold, mouth trying to dominate. “If your oldest _imekari_ is a young male in a role, how _old_ are you? Maker, you don't look old enough to have sired one his age.”

Ash grunted against her lips, obviously annoyed she'd stopped kissing him in favor of more questions. “My first rutting was when I was his age. I showed enough promise then to have been selected. Understand that that is...very rare to happen. The rest...were fewer and more sporadic until my avatar state.”

“So you were...say, your twentieth year for his conception?”

“Younger,” he grumbled, tongue dragging down her throat.

Hawke's eyes widened as she struggled to keep control over the conversation. “Eighteen summers?”

“Younger.”

“Ash, having a child younger than that is almost abuse in my eyes.”

“We mature faster than humans, and I've heard your people are bound even _younger_ ,” he corrected her, teeth nibbling on her skin with gentle tugs. “I saw...sixteen or seventeen summers before my first rut. None expected it to be successful. It was a trial as a result of personal successes and recommendations.”

“But it succeeded.”

“Yes. And I was put on many paths for it.” Ash let his hands run up her sides and cup her breasts, fingers working over her taut nipples. “I was named Arishok in my twenty-fourth year, one of the youngest named so, and held it until I left Kirkwall.”

“How long was that gap?” she asked, breathy, jerking at his touch.

“More than ten years. I was Arishok during the Blight in Ferelden.”

“So you're actually not that much older than me,” Hawke surmised, leaning back to look at him. “A handful of summers or so, perhaps almost two.”

Ash flashed his teeth and yanked her back to him, face in her throat. “Duty ages one beyond physicality, Hawke.”

“Made you feel old, huh. I can relate. Kirkwall felt like it aged me twenty summers, easily.”

“And yet here you are...still blossoming,” Ash whispered seductively and licked over her sore breast, gently touching again. “Growing full with child.”

Hawke smiled, feeling empowered and beautiful as he tended to her with lips and tongue and hands. There was power in being pregnant, power she was beginning to see. “Do I make you feel younger, Ash?”

“You create many feelings, Hawke.” His lips latched over a nipple, and he sucked slightly, rough tongue licking and making her eyes roll back in pain and arousal. With a nod, he looked back up to her briefly. “Our son will feed well from you.”

“I don't know how you managed to make _that_ something sexy, but I applaud you.” Hawke smiled to herself, body humming with want and need of him.

“I know you. I know your body. I possess it and your emotions. There is nothing I cannot do with the right intention.” Ash licked slowly from her sternum up her cleavage and to her throat as she arched backward. “If I whisper for you to imagine me inside, you do. If I demand you touch yourself, you will. If I _tell you_ to come to _completion_ , you will obey.”

“Maker, Ash!” Hawke felt hot, too hot, her hips grinding over his on his lap as she whimpered; her core brushed against his warm solidness, giving her partial satisfaction.

Ash smiled with dark appreciation. “Yes. You are mine, Hawke. No other will _ever_ make you feel this way, and I will _kill_ any who try. You have given yourself to me, and there is no going back.”

She ground against him, desperate and panting, fingers in his neck for stability. Slowly one brown eye cracked open to look at him, at the smugness he wore. “And what does that make you, Ash?”

“Your _kadan_ ,” he said simply. “The male strongest enough to complement you in soul, to make you reach satisfaction...to breed with you and give you _imekari_ worthy of your womb. You come to me in this the way _viddathari_ came in the past for guidance, order and belonging to the priests. And only _I_ can grant your conversion, Hawke.”

“Sexy bastard,” she grunted, conceding to him with a smirk. “It's always been you.”

Ash grinned again, this time with amusement as well as desire. It made him look so _damn_ delicious. His deep voice rumbled through her as he leaned in close to her ear, teeth catching its lobe. “Have you yet to realize the same?”

“Hm?” she questioned, her grinding getting her half-way to where she wanted to be.

Slowly he took one of her hands from his neck and rested it on his chest where she could feel the heavy beat of his heart. He blinked, eyes searching. “You are the only one whose touch creates feeling and joy. The only one who can make me demand and crave. I come to you the way you've come to me.”

Her eyes began to light up as she realized what he was saying behind the words—that they were rare equals suited for one another, that no one else could appreciate or understand them on these levels...or handle them. Who else would respect her need for duty the way he could? Who else could understand this need for order, for philosophy, and yet feel the paradoxical need now for freedom of some kind? Who else was strong enough to deal with her? Who was observant enough to notice how brilliant and emotional he was? It was all true, of course, but it was nice to hear from him.

Hawke smiled sensually, stopping her rubbing of him and lifting slightly away. Fingernails gripped over where his heart lay beneath his large chest. “And if I tell you to ready for my body, will you _because_ I will it? Do I hold you as tightly, possess you as much in heart and body and mind? Am I the only female you find worthy enough to _mother_ your children, to raise them personally alongside you? Are you the only _male_ worth giving me seed and love?”

Ash looked pleased that she'd caught on. Fingers gripped her hips, pulling her core back against his hardness. “Yes. We are worthy only of one another. Others may have taken my seed but _your_ womb will nurture it beyond necessity, beyond duty and meaningless acquaintance. Your womb alone knows and appreciates the gift I have given you—that I _wanted_ to give you for myself. You will carry _our imekari_. You will _love_ them. My seed, my will, surrenders to _you_.”

Feeling absolutely in control of herself and her feminine ability, completely empowered by his confession, she settled her gaze on him. Fingers slid down to the fastenings on his pants that kept him hidden from her. “Beg me to free you, and I will.”

“ _Hawke_ ,” he almost growled, chest heaving at her words. Gold eyes danced across her face. His hips rose into her fingers, his maleness pushing against her for relief.

“Ask.”

Ash gathered himself and stared into her deeply. With a light bow of his horns, he understood her rediscovery of her female power, her motherly gift. He leaned his face forward, lips brushing against hers so softly she almost couldn't tell he'd done it. “Release me, _kadan_. Allow me to join with you.”

“Since you begged so sweetly,” Hawke graced him with a smile and tugged at the knot at his pants, loosening it and the stitching. Her mouth settled against his, tongue caressing his own. She finished undoing the fastenings, and he came free into her hands, hot and thick. “Mine,” she whispered, eyes on his as her fingers rubbed him. “Despite all of the past, it was meant for my hands and my body. My love.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a brief kiss. Ash lifted her as she pulled her underwear down and slid over him slowly, intentionally sheathing him with patience. Hawke settled her hands on his shoulders and rode him at her pace, mouth opening with a sigh as her head fell back and he loved over her throat.

They made love that way—tightly, controlled and yet passionate, the strength of each binding together emotionally and physically in the connection. When she came with a cry of his name, her body clenching around him, his own orgasm followed, lips on her bare shoulder moaning her name in turn.

Hawke shuddered from the release, one of a far different type than she'd ever had before. It wasn't rushed, demanding, needy or too hot to handle. It was the satisfaction of a long awaited moment coming together. She held his head to her, fingers tracing over his gorgeous horns and hair.

“I love you, Camilla Hawke,” he whispered, making her eyes pop open at the actual full phrase being said together for the first time. Hawke swallowed back tears of happiness as she stroked his head, pressing her cheek to him. “You...never gave in, refused to let go even of memory of me when you did not know my thoughts or feelings. Your sincerity, your honesty, has always been strong. You are the only female worthy of this emotion and my complete devotion. That... _that_ is why I left the Qun behind entirely. You require someone as sincere. As loyal. Despite not giving me the thief, you gave me the relic. You wished me to not betray myself to revenge. You were...always loyal to me when you had no reason to be so. That was never forgotten. That...was why I both needed to kill you and couldn't. Had I done it, it would have been far more honorable than anything capture or invasion would have done.”

“I always was loyal to you, yes,” she whispered back, kissed his broad brow, and held him tighter. “I wanted you to see that not all humans were so bad. Of course, I ended up, um...caring more for you than just respectful treaties required.”

Ash swallowed a bit loudly, face pressed into her. “You could have finished pushing your blade into my chest that day, Hawke. I felt you withdraw it enough to know you'd refused...before you dropped it entirely. Even...then...you were loyal to me and wanted my respect. To...die respectfully and honorably. To...apologize for what had transpired.”

Hawke blinked rapidly, sniffing slightly as she thought back to that intense moment—possibly the most intense of her life, including all the crap with Corypheus. “Do you know what I said to my companions when they asked why I didn't just...push the blade in fast? I told them that killing you would have been like killing a proud, intelligent _atashii_ for no reason but sport. Even honorably, it would have been wrong to remove such a force or creature from existence. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill someone for only doing his duty, especially not when I'd had a partial unconscious hand in the duty's matter. I...loved you even then. And I did not know you would spare me, either, not until that last second.”

He said nothing, just exhaled harshly as he digested her words.

She smiled against his brow. “No regrets ever, my love. I only worry about the future around our son.”

“Then we shall define it for him,” he murmured quietly.

Hawke moved as he leaned back, expression confident despite being emotionally drained. Her hand brought his palm to the small curve of her belly, eyes just as confident on him. “I believe you, Ash.”

 


	23. What to Do, What to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is drawing close, and ideas are all they've got--and they've barely got any of those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

Ash watched her struggle to stay above the grip of frustration over the next week. With the return of the Inquisitor and his fury at the news of their journey being stunted over the attack, activity had erupted within the hold. Different regiments were employed, soldiers only Cullen himself hand picked toured the paths surrounding Skyhold.

And despite her wish to go to her sister, to travel onward to the _bas_ city of Denerim and speak with the human king on the elf's behalf, Ash registered the fear in her. Not fear for herself, but fear for the child in her womb should they be attacked again or if her health struggled over the amount of traveling. It created much for him to consider as she met again and again in that closed War Room while he debated quietly with the Iron Bull.

How strange it was to be able to call another _friend_ , even if the word had yet to leave his lips. He had never had friends; there was no purpose for them before. But now he had come to see the Bull as trustworthy, as respectful. After all the Qunari had healed him, protected he and Hawke until they were well enough to emerge. Had fought with the Inquisition leaders over the offense, nearly as strongly as he fought for his company of mercenaries, training and sending them places, then waiting for their triumphant return.

A serious blow to the _Ben-Hassrath_ , that loss. But a boon for Ash and this Inquisition.

The biggest problem was that his _kadan_ wished to see her kin, to find her _bas saarebas_ sister and confirm her health.

As he had personally vowed to leave the Qun behind him after the attack, Ash tried to internally not respond so...aggressively to the idea based on the fact that the female was a mage. Hawke explained to him how she saw the Qun's treatment of mages after helping a _saarebas_ , and he supposed to one who'd never been raised in it that she was certainly valid in her feelings. But he'd seen why they'd been bound and tethered, having watched more than one of them die without their handler. He started questioning as Hawke had prodded him in debate, asking if order to that extent was worth the empty existence it granted—other roles enjoyed life, but not the mages under the Qun. They were nothing more than slaves in her eyes. So, for her sake and his own promise, he'd tried to meditate on her words and consider it from her view, imagine humans treating their own mages as such—though that Tranquility brand was as barbaric for him as the Qun's binding was for her, especially for those who wielded the branding without cause.

Eventually she began to wean back on the idea of travel, mostly because of his calm insistence for her to be certain of herself and the dwarf's pleading for her not to leave.

As much as the dwarf could annoy Ash, he did rather like him and even...felt...a _little_ bad about that punch to the chest. The fact that Varric had taken it and moved on without resentment said much about his character, his understanding and respect. His care for Ash's mate. The dwarf was almost brother to her, and so Ash would protect him as well, especially once Hawke recounted how the pair had come to know one another and grow close, were trapped in the Deep Roads together, and why she'd had that little braid in her hair that day—the memory of the dwarf comforting her during the murder of her mother and the tradition of the braid starting then. Knowing her mother had been killed, at the hands of a blood mage no less, and that she'd gone through all of it, well...it infuriated him on her behalf, made him wish he could go back and help. Spare her pain.

Ash left the shadows of the corridor, standing ready as the War Room doors opened and the humans and Inquisitor emerged, all looking drained from the discussion. Hawke had forgone her armor, tired of its tightening around her breasts and allowing the Inquisitor's personal forge master to expand it for her with a slightly reinvented design. Instead she wore loose clothing of human nobility, the silks and linen complimenting the color of her skin and hair.

He came to her, ignoring the rest, and gently touched her lower back. Hawke sighed, leaned against him, and let him lead her across the main hall and down the side corridor to the room that had more or less been established as theirs in Skyhold, the original room they'd first stayed in when he'd arrived. Hawke tiredly sat down in one of the chairs near the small table by the fire that Ash had prepared just before waiting for her.

“There is...concern that my condition will inhibit the travel I require and the trip to speak with the King.” Hawke clenched her jaw, that struggle with the frustration showing itself. Ash knew she felt weak because of it, had only recently grown to see the power she held in this current state of hers because of his intervention. He did not wish her to fall back. “I do not regret this child, but it has come at inopportune time for many things.”

Ash crossed his arms and leaned near the fireplace, gold eyes on her. “Have you considered just what your _duty_ is, Hawke? You are not formally in this organization. You have only your personal motivation to see the magister brought down and so ally with them politically. There has been no assignment given by one above you stating that you must travel, you must do this or that. Only you yourself giving you orders.”

“I cannot sit here while the world moves around me with this problem.” Hawke sniffed the small plate nearby of bread and cheese, then pushed it away with a wrinkle of her nose. Apparently his son wanted something else this afternoon.

“You do not. You have already helped and done duty. There are many roles, many avenues to help, Hawke,” Ash explained, frowning as one of her palms cupped her brow. “As Arishok I did not undervalue the smallest of roles. Each had significance, each contributed. All were appreciated for their duty. Just because the existence of our son prevents a more front line role does not mean you are without option. It does not make you worthless.”

Hawke slowly looked up at him, warm brown eyes grateful as she carefully considered his words. “But what can I do? Would they even let us stay long enough, allow our child to be born safely? I had...I don't know. I suppose I hoped to either stay with Bethany or move us all back into my home in Kirkwall where we wouldn't be bothered. Qunari there now are strictly mercenary and known well by those in Lowtown and the Seneschal's office. Attackers would stick out easily.”

Immediately his stomach churned. “My son will not live in that city.”

“It has changed and is continuing to change as it finds order in its ashes. Give it a chance.” Hawke sighed and reached for the pitcher of water, filling herself a goblet and sipping it. “Even Varric has been helping all the way from here. And when this is all handled, he plans to return and finish the job, making his home and mine worthy again.”

“Then perhaps that day. But it has not come to pass yet.” Ash sneered, thinking of her friend who'd fought him often with her city guards. “Nor would the redhead allow me such a seat in the city as your mansion.”

“Damn it, I forgot about Aveline.” Hawke suddenly furrowed her brows, eyes switching to mild sadness. “I...never asked what you wished. I'm sorry, love.”

He bowed his head at the apology. “I only know these areas of Thedas for bringing the Qun—tactics, strategy, wealth of cities and spies. You would know better in some ways.”

“So much is still trying to recover from the Blight. My own family and I fled it, fled Lothering and came to Kirkwall for asylum.” Hawke blinked at the memories. “My brother died protecting us from an ogre before more help showed, like I told you.”

“Then he did his duty.” Ash pushed off the fireplace and stepped toward her, bending to a knee. His fingers rested over the soft material covering her thigh. “We will do what we agree is best. Regardless of where that leads, can we not agree that our _imekari_ takes priority?”

“Of course. I'd flee and hide in a cave to protect him if I have to.”

“And so you might have to do. Have you spoken with the Inquisition about leaving soon?”

“Yes. Some of them consider us and the danger we bring as liability they cannot afford. Distraction for their people. Lavellan countered this by stating our appearance has brought to light spies that were already in place, as well as our other contributions.” Hawke shook her head, a slight smile on her pink lips. “I think he's fond of us, as is Cullen.”

“Fondness does little when it comes to the security of his organization.”

“They are not stupid, Ash. You are a walking resource, as their Iron Bull is.”

Ash's brows rose up as he lifted his chin. “They wish what? Information? I have nothing to give them outside the orders from our attackers. I was not informed of any plans while I was in capture.”

“You are a force, something they could use to terrify and fortify themselves. They think of the former Arishok as an ally, as someone patrolling Skyhold, and know it strikes fear in certain hearts. They know your power, your strength, and can appreciate it, and they're aware your past experience has a lot of insight to offer about the Qunari,” she explained, taking another sip from her goblet. “And we know how their Seeker saw me—a possible figurehead to draw more support. I'm sure our union would be downplayed more if they still wish to use me for such purpose and you for yours, but...soon I will be unable to hide our son's existence. He grows each day. And the nobles who were here in the past know of us and have no doubt gossiped at least to our relationship.”

Ash smiled slowly, eyes dropping appreciatively to her belly and seeing the growing curve there only hidden by the loose clothing. “He will be strong.”

“And large. I will need help birthing him, getting through the last of his pregnancy. Having access to healers here would be a _boon_ for that, don't you think?”

“Yes.”

Hawke grunted and slammed her fist lightly down on her right knee. “Then you see the dilemma.”

“That was never in question, _kadan_.” Ash snatched a piece of bread from the plate, chewing as he thought.

What would he have done in the past as Arishok?

Easy—stayed, taken over the Inquisition and run it himself until it worked like a well-oiled weapon, stripping it of unnecessary or broken pieces without question.

But he lacked the conviction and resource and even desire to do anything similar. Like his mate he had to consider hiding more than fighting, and it was frustrating for them, having been such noted warriors. But if he had to hide to protect his...his family, then he would do so without qualm.

So what does _Ash_ do, the lone male he'd become when he'd been kicked from the Qun, intended to be left despondent and miserable until his death, only to turn it around and become prosperous and emotionally strong? Ash wouldn't take the front line, but the side approach, watching for dangers to his female and child. He would see the Inquisition's hold as opportunity, safety and haven for a time of need.

Yet...yet he would also see the constant danger of spies, assassins, his son unable to move beyond their rooms without their presence and only knowing oppression to protect him. This hold might be a new home for many, but they'd forgotten its temporary status as that. He couldn't. He would need to move beyond, make a home, a safe haven free from corruption and eyes that sought to harm.

They were both in deep thought, stirred by the knock at the door. Ash moved to answer it as he'd grown to doing, never allowing her to be seen immediately to protect her if any blow should come first.

The dwarf smiled up at him as he opened the door. “Hey, Ash. Hawke in here?”

“Yes,” Hawke answered behind him.

Ash moved out of the way for the dwarf, then shut and locked the door behind him. He took his position once more by the fire, watching as Varric sat in the other chair by Hawke. The dwarf shook his head at her. “Have you made a decision, Hawke?”

“There is danger either way, Varric. We're aware our status here is temporary at best for allying. We know we bring attention many don't want. There are too many eyes for us to feel safe, but healers that I might require.” Hawke pulled at her hair as she rubbed her face. “We cannot even go home. Aveline will have a right shit, as Ash pointed out, and the city isn't near better enough to raise my child yet.”

“Hey now. It's getting there. I'll give you Bartrand's place. Get in, nobody knows who you are but me. I keep my own tenants and business. You can have things delivered, and I'll keep on that it's some secluded noble hiding away from a desire to get out of his family dealings.”

“Creates too much interest,” Ash countered.

“Well, if and when I get things running more smoothly with the city, I'll let you know. Then you guys come home,” Varric shrugged, settling his hands on his lap. “Honestly, it's...already better. Aveline's cleaned house. I just need to get my economy ideas in action.”

Hawke smiled, beating Ash to his words as the Qunari frowned. “I don't think Ash will ever think of Kirkwall as home.”

“I...yeah. Suppose that's true. Shame.”

Ash just raised a brow, mystified by the dwarf's love of the terrible place.

Varric's jaw twitched. “Are you really any safer living in the woods and needing help with the baby?”

“In some ways, yes,” Hawke defended, making Ash feel better. “Attackers are clearly defined.”

“Look, you guys. I know you gotta do what's best for your kid that's coming. I get that. I worry about both of you,” the dwarf began, spreading his hands out. “But I...I want you safe. Near. And honestly, Hawke, Bethany would benefit from being here, too. Don't tell me you can't see that.”

“Then...then she should come. That doesn't mean I can stay.”

Now Varric was tugging on his chin in frustration. “There's gotta be a solution here. What the hell is it?”

“Find it, fast,” Hawke mumbled, then rose up waving her arms. “Out. I've got a growing boy inside of me who likes to press my bladder into nothing.”

Varric hopped off his chair, whistled, and winked at her as he moved for the locked door with Ash. “She usually this sassy when she needs to piss?”

“It's...becoming more frequent,” Ash admitted, smirking over his shoulder as Hawke trilled her tongue at him and messed with her clothes.

 

 


	24. Broody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, SHIT. Poor Varric.  
> At least Dorian's appreciative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

“Hey, Varric. Elf just showed up. Claims he's got one of your letters. Weird lookin' tattoos and such,” Bull sniffed as he entered the tavern. “Overheard him getting detained.”

Varric instantly lit up with excitement. “Holy shit, Broody's here. Wow.”

“Broody?”

“Nickname. He's a grump.” Varric waved at Bull in thanks and took off from the tavern and into the late evening, easily seeing Fenris standing out among a small group near the entrance gate. He hadn't changed a fucking bit—same armor, same lyrium branding, same smart-ass mouth.

“Then get his short legs out here and _verify_ who I am.”

“Hey, His Shortness is here.”

Fenris looked over at him with a quick half-smirk. “About time, dwarf.”

“Know this elf, Varric?” one of the guards asked, looking less anxious now.

“Oh yeah. Old friend. He's safe.”

“All right. Best check in with the Commander in any case. He likes to personally know coming and going folk since...since you know.”

Varric grew solemn at the reference to Hawke and Ash's attack. “Yeah, no problem. C'mon, Fenris. Let's go bug Cullen.”

“Cullen? Knight-Commander Cullen? Maker, what's he doin' here?” Fenris looked around, trying to hide his impression of the large hold as Varric took him up a nearby staircase to the ramparts. “This organization...seems to be prospering.”

Varric nodded in front of him as he banged on Cullen's door. “Oh yeah. We've...come a long way.”

Cullen flung the door open in annoyance. “I said _five minutes_! Maker, a piss is all I need for privacy any more. Oh...Varric. Um.”

“Hey, Curly. Registering a guest.” Varric snickered at his tall human friend. “Getting overwhelmed?”

“When am I not?” Cullen opened the door to let him in, brow rising as he recognized Fenris. “Oh. I see.”

“Do you? Decent memory, Templar?” Fenris almost sneered.

Varric tapped Fenris's armored wrist beside him. “Hey now. He commands the army, and he's damn good at it. Be nice, both of you.”

Fenris crossed his arms and leaned against a wall as he entered. Cullen walked over to his desk and flipped out a ledger, taking note of the date, rough time and person who'd come to the hold.

The elf looked mildly puzzled at it. “So...have some issues?”

“Attacks recently. Dealing with spies.”

“Varric, _must_ you blabber every detail?”

“It's just Fenris. I got him here so he could help. You know, go track these Venatori further north and keep them back for us. Maybe disrupt some supply lines.” Varric shrugged and held out a hand. “Don't say I don't do for you, Cullen.”

“Ugh. Well, it'll have to go through Leliana and the Inquisitor for approval, of course. I have no qualms.” Cullen sat in his chair and leaned back tiredly.

Fenris narrowed his suspicious eyes. “And this Inquisitor. What of him?”

“Determined. Strong. Unique in dealing with everyone. Great representative of the Dalish,” Cullen sniffed, answering. “Despite the opinions of the Chantry, most who meet him like him. He doesn't...put up with crap and sticks to his word. I can respect that and his desire to treat all with respect despite differences.”

“My, _how_ you've changed,” Fenris grunted, one brow up. “Last I remember you, your Templars had helped destroy Kirkwall. And you _hated_ mages.”

“Hey, enough. He's...not with them anymore, and he protects the good mages here from bullshit.”

“Then...you have more reason than I thought,” Fenris acquiesced with a nod. “Varric, we can talk with people tomorrow. Do you have some safe spot I can rest?”

Varric smiled widely. “Of course! I'll get you set up in the tavern. C'mon.”

They bid Cullen a good evening and left the way they entered, walking back up the stairs to the second level of ground and the tavern. Varric wasn't sure what to say about Hawke to their friend. Fenris would no doubt wish to see her if he knew she were there, but...ugh, what a mess coming.

Varric opened a tab for Fenris under his name and got him dinner and ale, settling at Bull's table.

Fenris gauged the Qunari, asked something in Qunlat, and got whatever answer Bull gave in return. It seemed to calm the elf regardless, and he sat down, tearing into his food.

They chatted for a while, catching up. Fenris was surprised to see Varric so at home here and making a new circle of companions, even if they'd annoyed one another in the past. Varric in turn declared it a surprise the elf had even gotten his letter while tracking Tevinter slavers; must have been that nice tip he'd added with the ex-Carta dwarf messenger he'd picked.

Dorian's sudden appearance caught their attention; the mage plopped down semi-elegantly next to Bull with a hand over his face. “Maker, I'm exhausted.”

“From doing what? Looking pretty while studying amulets?”

Manicured brows rose at Varric's teasing, then he gasped as he took in Fenris. “You...is that _lyrium_ in your skin?”

“Easy, Broody,” Varric said, putting an arm out to still the elf who'd already gotten defensive. “Dorian's a mage. He's just curious.”

“Yes,” Fenris finally answered, going back to his dinner. “A Tevinter magister branded me with them while I was his slave.”

“Wow. Well, what an experiment. I don't approve, obviously, but... _such_ results should at least be...appreciated?” Dorian smiled as he took in the markings of the attractive elf. Bull nudged him with an elbow, and the Vint rolled his eyes. “Please. Like our dear friend, once I rode a Qunari I decided nothing else could satisfy.”

Fenris almost choked on his ale, then turned to Varric for explanation, frowning as he caught Varric shaking his head at Dorian to shut the mage up. “What...is going on here? What friend?”

Dorian blinked, puzzled, and went to speak, only to have Bull clap a huge hand over most of his handsome face. “Just a friend,” Bull replied. “And a mouthy Vint who needs to learn when those nice lips should _shut_.”

“I think you rather like when they shut on you in a certain way,” Dorian drawled as Bull released the hand over his face. “Damn Qunari.”

Narrowed olive green eyes pierced Varric, but the dwarf shook it off. “So, guys, I thought Fenris could be great help tracking Venatori north with the slavers. Maybe find us some red lyrium supply lines to bust up with your crew, Bull.”

“Sounds possible. What routes have you been taking?” Bull asked, settling in with an arm over Dorian's chair.

Fenris spent several minutes detailing his route from Kirkwall and the Free Marches westward, even into Seheron while he revisited the Fog Warriors briefly. _That_ excited Bull, and the two didn't shut up for a while talking about the group.

Varric was just grateful. He'd not been sure if Fenris was gonna show or when, and bless the brooding elf, he'd picked a _hell_ of a time. Now, if he could plan how the old friend would meet up with Hawke, preferably without a giant ox with her, it might...work. Yeah.

An elven servant, Lumia, the one who'd enjoyed serving Hawke in Skyhold and so got assigned to her temporarily, quietly stepped to Varric's side and bowed. Varric tried not to wince as she briefly looked to Fenris, shook off the elf's appearance, and said softly, “Mistress Hawke would very much appreciate some of your molasses drops, so she called them. Her words for you were, 'I'm craving, give me, or I'll steal them myself.' Apologies, Ser, she was most insistent.”

“ _Hawke_ is here?” Fenris snapped, rising up and searching the bottom floor of the tavern with his gaze. An instant gauntlet-covered hand gripped Varric's shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me, dwarf? Where is she? I must speak with her.”

“Look, Broody, Hawke's had...some rough days lately. Nasty business with the Wardens and the Fade and all.”

_“What?”_

Varric cursed as he dug his hole deeper. One hand rummaged in his pockets until he pulled out a small parcel of the candies Hawke was demanding. Maker, the shit he did for his best friend. “Here, Lumia. Take them to her. Tell her I expect _most_ of them back tomorrow, and I'll see if I can get her some of her own soon.”

“Of course, Master Varric,” Lumia said, took the parcel and bowed.

Fenris glared at Varric. “Where's the elf going? I'm following her to Hawke.”

“Not now, Broody. _Trust_ me. You'll get, um...it won't...there'll be pain involved, let's put it that way, okay?” Varric muttered and rubbed his face while Bull and Dorian tried not to smirk in unison. Pain was an _understatement_ coming from the old Arishok. If he knocked Varric that bad with a single hit while territorial and out of it, Varric could just imagine him jealous _and_ aware with no reason to hold back.

“What the fuck is going on, Varric?” Fenris demanded as he sat down again. “What's she doing here? Is she all right? Why hasn't she responded to my letter?”

Varric raised his hands up in defense. “Woah, woah. First off, she's helped the Inquisition. Just...recuperating from some wounds at the moment. She's fine. Best guess is she hasn't been in Kirkwall to know you sent a letter, Fenris. She's not been home for a long time.”

“Well I did, and it needed a response.” Fenris scowled and swallowed the rest of his ale. “I need to see her.”

Something about his voice made Varric highly worried, and even Dorian looked to him with that “uh oh here comes delicious Drama” look on his face. Varric sighed a little, wanting to help but almost afraid to play middle man. “Well, what's so important? Maybe I can help.”

“No. It's...no.”

“C'mon, Broody.”

Fenris stared into his empty mug, suddenly looking far more tired than he had.

Varric cursed under his breath and patted the elf's armored back. Before everything went tits up in Kirkwall, he'd caught signs that the elf had held interest in Hawke, much as she had him. But something had always kept her back, a strange love for a six-foot-plus Qunari apparently, but no one had known what then. Fenris himself had seemed too on the fence, always hissing if anyone touched his bare skin and growing furious over it. That was why Varric had flat out told Hawke not to go for it then—Fenris needed to sort his shit before he got into something emotional and physical with someone as loving and affectionate as Hawke. She didn't need the hurt and withdraw the elf was famous for doing.

But... _fuck_ this was bad. Fenris once had some mild respect for the Arishok, being almost an ambassador between the group and the Qunari for a while in speaking Qunlat and knowing more of the culture. Ash himself had once seemed pleased by that, but eventually Hawke had slowly stopped taking them with her, going to the compound alone and returning later, stating she was learning about them and gaining their trust without armed people with her as a threat. Made sense, but now that he knew more about it, Varric wanted to shake her again. What a sneaky rogue going to chat up her dangerous crush. She was _always_ ballsy.

“So...thinking about staying in Seheron?” Bull asked, trying to change the topic.

Fenris shrugged, staring into the abyss of his mug. “Figured Hawke could help with what Varric's got in mind there and south.”

“Well, you know, Inquisitor's kinda enjoying having her at disposal, so...probably gonna be someone else,” Varric said, not dishonestly. Just...not with full truth.

But how should he say it? Hey, Fenris, I know you once dug Hawke and all, but she's kinda mated to that Qunari who sacked the city and oh, yeah, _she's pregnant_ with his kid. So, been well?

Maker, they might have to lie to the elf.

It took a little while, most of it with Fenris not speaking, before Varric helped his friend find his room and sleep for the night. Varric shut the door behind him and the slightly snoring elf, debating. Then, mind made up, he hoofed it to Hawke's room, no doubt about to piss off a sleeping Qunari for waking her for this. He just hoped it wouldn't be _him_ in pain after his own warning.

 

 

 


	25. On the Ramparts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> (This IS work from a year to two ago, just being cleaned and posted, FYI.)

 

 

 

 

Hawke didn't sleep well. Varric's visit late into the evening had both excited her and worried her as he dished details about Fenris demanding to see her now that he knew she was here.

Of course she wanted to see her friend and would do so. She had no idea what letter Fenris had referred to and felt bad for it. Her mind had constantly drifted during the tight discussion in the corridor.

Varric had, understandably, not wanted to break the news in front of a Qunari who'd impregnated her. If he had, well, it was possible Ash would be chasing Fenris across Skyhold with his weapons just for his past interest and demand to see her now. He'd be chasing Fenris _and_ Varric.

She didn't know what to say. What to think about it. She was just _glad_ to get the chance to see her friend again.

When dawn broke through the tiny window, she stirred and moved for the chamber pot, annoyed. It was getting to be reliable, this new bladder thing. Ash took a deep breath as she left his arms' hold, then eyed her when she came back to bed and sat on the edge.

“You did not rest,” he accused.

“No.” Hawke yawned and rubbed her face to further wake.

Ash sighed and rolled onto his back. “You must. This is bad for your health, Hawke.”

“I know, Ash. I was just...worried about something.”

“If this is what to expect from a late chat with the dwarf, he will not be permitted to do so again,” Ash warned, voice extra gravelly and deliciously teasing her in the early dawn while he rubbed his face. “My _kadan_ needs rest. My son needs rest. The dwarf needs an ax.”

“Now, now,” Hawke snickered and leaned over, lips pressing to a gray cheek. “I have an old friend to see. I would...appreciate you respecting my privacy for this.”

A firm, heavy brow rose up as he looked to her. “If that thief is here.... I wouldn't kill her for the Qun, but she would not _walk_ away.”

“It's not Isabela,” she countered, cutting off that thought. Sheesh.

“You will be safe?” he asked, blinking heavily.

“Trust me,” Hawke whispered and hugged him, feeling heavy Qunari hands on her back. “Please.”

Ash nuzzled her brow and kissed her once as she pulled away to dress. “Very well. I will find the Bull. My shoulders need stretched in sparring since the attack. Stick to shadows as you cross the courtyard. Do not be open. Do not make me regret this.”

“I'll be fine, love.” Hawke finished dressing in the loose rogue gear. She'd gotten _really_ over the prissy Orlesian clothing she'd worn before and begged the armorer for something else while she waited on her armor to be modified. “I will see you soon. Thank you.”

Ash gave her a nod and watched her leave the room, obviously fighting the urge to follow; he probably wouldn't struggle with it if they'd not been attacked personally twice here.

Hawke took a breath and followed the slight maze back out toward some stairs to the main hall. Varric was leaned over some letters, circles under his eyes. He'd not slept well either, it seemed. Hawke wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and kissed his cheek.

“We look like hell,” she said and sat down next to him.

“Shit. You, too?”

“Duh.” Hawke opened her palm for one of his candies that he'd taken back last night. She tossed it into her mouth, sucking on it. “Just so you know, someone is rather not happy I didn't rest. He says no more night talks with 'the dwarf' if that's the result, 'cause you'll get an ax.”

“Ouch. Well, not all night talks come with emotional drama,” Varric shrugged, but chuckled all the same. “Surprised he's not with you. I've been...practicing my funeral speech for Fenris. 'Known best to his friends as Broody, he was a hero among people in Kirkwall during the uprising and demolishing of the Circle.' What'cha think? Good lead-in?”

“Maker, Varric.” Hawke rolled her eyes. “Ash knows I need to deal with something personal. Calm down.”

“Still, Hawke. How do we _not_ have a fight?”

“Keep them from seeing each other, I guess, until I can explain it all.”

“Okay. I'll write your speech, too. And, fuck, one for me. Bull can read them.” Varric jerked out fresh parchment and cracked his knuckles. “Fenris said he'd be on the ramparts by the tavern when you were ready this morning.”

Hawke thanked Varric for the information, stuck her hand in his coat for a second candy, and ran out of the main doors of Skyhold with a laugh as he yelled at her. She made her way across the already busying yard of training soldiers and medics, mages and scouts. Only a few even looked at her; most were too busy in routine, but she still followed Ash's order and stuck with shadow walking if possible. Hawke climbed the stone stairs, tired and feeling slight pain in her back. Despite the smaller size of her belly swelling, she could already feel pressure in places, and her breasts were _sore_ today.

She sighed when she saw him looking out over the mountains.

They'd been so damn good friends, and there'd always been little hints for possibly more, but too much stood in the way. The one time they'd kissed, Fenris had recoiled when she'd slid her hands down his arms, and it hadn't left her, even when he later apologized after leaving her abruptly, obviously mad at himself. That was, of course, well after the Arishok had left Kirkwall and she behind, before his letter, and she'd never known a possible future with him. But the damn Qunari with his smirking arrogance had never left her mind...or her heart. As erotic and exotic as kissing Fenris had been, the _single_ kiss she'd shared with Ash in the compound had almost set her on fire with need. She'd felt nothing like it since until her kiss on him outside Skyhold's own walls. It was how she'd known she'd done the right thing in waiting.

“Fenris,” she whispered, her voice catching the wind and gliding to him.

Immediately he rose and looked over at her, those pretty dark green eyes looking sad and relieved and happy to see her, all at once. He licked his lips and scratched his neck, breaking into a rare full smile. “Hawke. I...you're really here.”

“Yeah. Glad you made it safely. Been dangerous out there, Fenris,” she spoke and came closer, touching the stone of the wall.

“I heard you were injured in some stuff with the Wardens. Once I pried more about the... _Fade_ trip from Varric, I...you're sure you're all right?” Fenris asked, voice absolutely concerned. “Hawke, you're my friend, perhaps my closest, and I couldn't imagine what you...saw. Heard.”

“I got through it. I wasn't alone, and we were fighting too much for the horror to hold us.”

“I...suppose that's good to hear.”

Hawke smiled, the wind catching the wisps of hair around her face that had come undone from her tie. “So, how's it been? Kill some slavers?”

“Several. Caused quite a stir, just like we used to together.” Fenris smirked, that adorable half-smile she'd fallen for once. “Even met up with a few Fog Warriors again when I trailed a magister near Seheron's borders. They...forgave me for my actions.”

“I'm glad, Fenris. I'd hoped you'd get the chance to mend that.” Hawke reached out and patted his armored arm briefly. “It's good for you to find acceptance beyond our group that's gone its way. Not that we don't still care for each other in it, of course.”

Fenris blinked and paced a little, obviously about to change the topic. Hawke tried to brace herself, but was unprepared for the softening tone of his voice. “Did you...ever get a letter from me?”

“No, Fenris. As soon as you and Isabela left, I grabbed Bethany and ran from Cassandra's inquiries with Aveline's help. I had to hide her, and after Aveline got her toward Denerim, I thought...the Divine might bring 'justice' to Kirkwall, and if I were gone, they'd have to chase me instead and spare the city. So I kept going.” Hawke bit her lip as his face fell. “I'm so sorry I missed it. I promise I would have answered had I seen it. It's probably on my desk at home, waiting.”

“I...yes. I suppose you would have replied.” Fenris looked away, fingers clenching before he grumbled and spun on his bare foot, large eyes resting on her with focus. “Come...come with me. Leave this place. We'll do whatever it is Varric wants to shut him up and do our part in this fight, but...Hawke, you don't belong here. No one knows you, no one cares but Varric.”

Hawke felt her heart break. Perhaps if Ash had never stormed Skyhold alone, screaming her name, she'd have said yes in this moment without hesitation. “Fenris....”

“Look, that letter—Maker take it, I.... I missed you, Hawke,” Fenris whispered, stepping closer to her. “I had a lot of time to think, and I'm sorry. I pushed you away too much because you were so perfect and beautiful and so...understanding, and your very touch brought back hints of memories and terrified me. I wasn't good enough for you. I'm not still. But I'm trying to...be better.”

“Fenris, I...I'm sorry it caused you pain.”

“Don't...don't be.” A gauntlet reached for her hand, taking it firmly. “Come with me, Hawke.”

Tears welled up and her stomach instantly flipped from exhaustion. Hawke inhaled roughly and closed her eyes. “I...can't.”

“ _Fuck_ this place, Hawke. You owe it nothing, owe this Inquisition nothing. If you want to help, we'll do Varric's idea.” Fenris tightened his hold on her hand. “Let me...let me _try_. Give me a chance, Camilla.”

“Please, Fenris, I...Maker, I can't. I'm sorry.” Hawke brought her free hand up to cup her face, the tears cutting through. “I wish I...long ago...I....”

He didn't let go of her hand, but he did step forward once more and slid his other arm around her, pulling her to his thin armored chest. Once she'd enjoyed such a thing romantically. But now...he wasn't _huge_ and _encompassing_ and _rumbling_ at her all the time with a smirking glare. “Talk to me, then. What...what is it? What can I do?”

Hawke rested her forehead to him. “I...so much has happened since I first got here to help months ago. You wouldn't...wouldn't _believe_ me.”

“Yes, I would. You've never lied to me, Hawke,” he whispered above her. “Tell me.”

She managed to pull out of his hold a little and looked away, not wanting to see his pain. “My...past came back. Here at this hold. Made a rather thunderous entrance and nearly caused some serious damage.”

“What are you talking about, Hawke?” Fenris asked in concern. “Which past?”

“Well.” Hawke gripped the stone in front of her, feeling her gut twisting. “It's okay. Please calm.”

“What?”

“Not...not you,” she whispered, blinking and shook her head to clear it. “Someone from my past returned. Our past, really. And you will not be happy.”

Fenris stormed over to where she'd moved, furious. “If you're telling me that Anders _survived_ that stabbing you gave him, I am going to finish the job by taking his fucking head.”

“No. Not Anders. He died.”

“Good.”

Hawke blew out a shaky breath. “Fenris, promise me you won't run off swinging your sword. Promise me you will _listen_. I don't want you getting hurt.”

“Fine, I promise.” He frowned at her, leaning against the stone next to her side. “Maker, Hawke, you act like the damned Arishok himself set foot in Skyhold, and that's impossible.”

She instantly paled and felt the dizziness shake her, fingers gripping the stone.

Fenris caught her reaction and shouted, pacing again as he shook his head. “That...no! There is no way! Did he hurt you? Have they killed him? Captured him? Why did he come here?”

“For...for me,” she answered tiredly. “Before you ask, he didn't hurt me.”

“Then what the _fuck_ did the Qunari want, Hawke?” Fenris asked, voice growling out darkly. “Did he come to finish the job and return? Kill you after finding Isabela?”

Hawke took a breath and stood straight, trying to look unshakable in front of the absolutely shocked elf. “Me—he just wanted me. Before everything...I'd sent letters once you gave me news of what they were doing to him. Despite what happened, I respected him. I didn't want him displaced or killed for doing his duty not to their full tastes. He...wrote back. Just once, long after I had written. Very few lines.”

“ _What_ are you talking about? Why? What did he say?” Fenris demanded, taking a harsh step.

“He told me they were struggling to reeducate him into a different Qun role and were going to exile him if they didn't kill him. He wanted me to know.”

“So, fine, it's done. He's obviously been exiled. What else does he need? Why can't you leave it behind? Is he bartering trade of sorts? Protection? Working for the Inquisition?”

Hawke didn't reply, just stared at him sadly. Fenris's face kept dropping at her continued silence. Finally she blew out a breath. “He's changed and remained the same. Powerful, even without the Qun.”

“Hawke....”

“Do you know why he didn't kill me, Fenris?” Hawke quietly asked, eyes leaving his to look toward the mountains. “Why his hand stopped squeezing?”

Fenris sighed next to her. “He respected you, but that shouldn't have stopped it. If anything, that respect should have made it easier. So no, I don't. I've always wondered.”

“I'd accepted it. I pulled my blade back enough for him to notice and understand that I respected him too much...that if I were to die, by his hand would be honorable, and I threw it down after I made my decision. My part in what Isabela did was still wrong. He....” Hawke smiled to herself. “Time had created things, but in that moment he realized that I was _kadan_. And he could not kill something so important, even honorably. Better to spare it, let it go, than live with that blood on his soul for the Qun. I had changed him enough by then.”

Her friend went absolutely speechless at her side. She knew he understood that Qunari word and every implication it had. Fenris's jaw dropped, and he shook his head, unable to reconcile the words with the event he remembered. “N-No,” he finally grunted out. “He'd have killed a close friend for that, Hawke. He never flinched at deaths of his own men there.”

“Go further than friend, Fenris, in the word's meaning.”

“ _No_.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Damn it, Hawke!” Fenris almost screamed, turning away and hanging his head before snapping at her. “Do not _tell me_ you allowed that...that _Qunari_ to....”

“I didn't allow him anything. I gave.” She caught Fenris's shoulder and forced him to face her. “Fenris...I love him and have loved him. I know that must sound _insane_ to you, and it does to everyone who never saw us talk privately in Kirkwall, saw us learn about one another. Befriend one another. You do not know how many he has killed for me since. He _loves_ me.”

“This isn't possible. You're _fucking_ with me because you...you...you just _don't_ want me!” Fenris snapped and threw her off him. “A Qunari like him, an Arishok at that, would never have done this!”

Hawke shouted and caught her balance, righting herself and instantly putting a hand on her belly in relief. Fenris turned at her shout, obviously worried he'd hurt her or pushed her close to the rampart wall or edge. But his dark green elven eyes caught her hand movement, her relief as she held her stomach, and slowly his gaze rose up to her face.

The pain in it was palpable.

They stared one another down for several heated moments before the words choked from him in a near sob. “You...didn't. You _aren't_.”

“I am,” Hawke firmly said as she let go of her belly. “That is why I can't go with you. We are _kadan,_ we are _more_ , completely given to one another.”

Fenris clenched his eyes shut and shook. “How...why would you let...? How could you...agree?”

“Love makes us do crazy things, Fenris,” she softly said and took his hand despite his resistance. “Look, if things were different? If he'd never shown up _demanding_ to see me here after tracking Varric and I? Then yes. I'd go with you, no question. I'd have seen what could happen. But that is not what transpired. I'm sorry I didn't get your letter, and I'm sorry I cannot...be what you need now. I can only hope that you will still be my good friend, Fenris. _That_ I do not wish to lose.”

He turned his face into her neck and rested it there, shaking a little. “I should never have let go of you. I should have fought the markings. Stupidly realized as everything fell apart around us in the city that I had things I needed to do, but...I also _felt_ more than I thought. Damn it, Hawke.”

“It's okay. It just...happened as it did. I never hated you for it.”

“Did you...even feel anything that night?” he quietly asked in her throat. “Was I...nothing?”

Hawke blinked and patted his back. “Yes, Fenris, I felt something. You've never been nothing. It was lovely until you panicked, and I was just worried about you. I will admit that it...didn't have the intensity I felt in the compound, but...it was good to _feel_ after feeling nothing at all for some time since his departure. I'd accepted not seeing him ever again, and that was before his letter more or less telling me to 'go forth' in life, as he thought he would be killed.”

Fenris dropped his head low. “Then I'm an even bigger fool. A pathetic waste, unable to love or be loved.”

“Shh. No, you're not. You had things to get through, to work out.” She squeezed him in a makeshift hug. “Fenris, you need to realize what a catch you are. And I _know_ for a fact you're lovable either way, and that there are women who would want a chance if you'd give them one. You just have to try.”

He gently pulled back, smirking a little. “Some...some catch I am. I have issues with touch, I've got lyrium branded into me, I'm unable to get _close_ emotionally to anyone...I'm no catch, Hawke.”

“Believe me, you are.”

“Hm.” Fenris swallowed a bit and looked over face. “You...are glowing. You really are happy.”

“Well, I've heard being pregnant does that, but yes. I'm happy with him. He treats me...like his queen, almost, if he were a king.”

Fenris sighed and hugged her again. “Naturally. He sort of was in a sense. I am...glad for that, at least. You deserve the best, Camilla, someone who will love you entirely.”

“Trust me—he does. Still friends?” she asked, voice tight.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, Hawke.”

“Thank the Maker,” she happily said and squeezed his hand. “I don't want to lose anyone over this, but...I have to do what's right for me now if so, you know.”

“I guess.” Fenris blew out a shaky breath as she let go of him. “So. I...you know, I don't even _want_ to know. He's far too large for it to have even been _possible_.”

“ _Well_ ,” Hawke said and burst out laughing.

“Hawke! I meant his fucking _size_! He must be, what, at least _two_ of you?”

“Too late,” she giggled, unable to handle it and glad to have the comedic relief after the tension. Hawke wiped her eyes as Fenris shook his head in good humor.

The sounds of heavy weapons clashing echoed up the wall, catching their ears. Hawke smiled. “Wanna see something?”

“Hm?”

She led him over and around behind the tavern, above the infirmary, and pointed. Two large figures were in the sparring ring, one wielding a two-handed ax, the other dual wielding huge shining weapons. Ash was beautiful as he moved with deadly grace, slamming and ducking, twisting after daring hits. Bull kept up with the former Arishok, a huge grin on his face the entire time.

Maker, the Qunari was probably just glad to have someone _he_ could bash up without worry.

Fenris rested his forearms over the stone wall, jaw dropping as he watched. Hawke smiled, her eyes going back to Ash. “He's...still a force,” Fenris murmured, in obvious awe.

“That was always who he was, not his role,” Hawke agreed quietly. “My love is a champion, no matter where he belongs. He was destined for nothing less.”

They watched in silence for a little while, both wincing as heavy skulls racked into one another at one point, then both Qunari went back to swinging weapons. Ash almost got a slice of Bull's ax across his upper right arm, but backed up in time, his sword coming up in his right hand to catch the haft of the ax and disturb the rest of the momentum. They paused, panting, then both let out loud chuckles and cracked skulls again in affection, holstering the blades.

Hawke slowly smiled as Ash turned, glancing around, before he looked briefly upward and caught her eye. The huge man froze solid, gray chest heaving in his fitting armor, his strong features gorgeous in the early light. Then his eyes slid to her right and narrowed immediately in recognition.

“Fenris, don't move. Let me deal with this.”

“I...sure, Hawke. He won't hurt you, right?”

“No. He would never. You, though, I can't guarantee,” Hawke whispered as Ash immediately thundered over to the closest set of stairs, his eyes not leaving her at all. Fenris stood behind her, obviously wary as the huge Qunari made it up, his steps heavy and dangerous as he closed in and got to their level of the ramparts.

Ash stormed over to her, a dark frown on his face. At first it confused her to see it, but as he grew closer, Hawke caught the wariness—the possession he felt about her and concern about another male near her, especially an attractive elf she'd been close to before. So when he got close enough to tower over her, black eyes with the golden touches fierce, Hawke disturbed his dark intent by standing up on her toes and throwing her arms around his neck. The Qunari paused in his glare at Fenris and slowly slid his eyes down to her, his left arm securely wrapping around her back and holding her to him. Hawke grunted in annoyance and rose on her toes again, her lips pressing to his in the sunlight. Ash growled lowly, rumbling next to her like always, but kissed back possessively, marking her as his in front of the elf. Hawke pulled back with a smile when he let her.

“I assume you remember my friend, Fenris,” Hawke began, disentangling her arms from his thick neck.

Fenris's eyes were huge on them, which was to be expected. The last he'd ever seen of Ash was the huge man almost snapping her throat. Now he'd just seen the same Qunari _kiss_ her with passion and tongue. Ash's eyes were narrowed, his hand not leaving her waist. “The elf that spoke the Qun. Yes.”

“I hear you've got a new life,” Fenris said, bowing his head a bit in respect.

“They regret exiling me for it,” Ash murmured in response, but his tight stance softened a little and he nodded in return. “The dwarf says you aim to help him in this fight somehow?”

“Yeah. I've been killing Tevinter magister slavers in the north. Got even around Seheron as they were fleeing. I wrote back that I'd seen some of the Venatori and red lyrium he wrote about. Now he wants me back up there, causing chaos.”

“Admirable.”

Fenris shrugged. “Working that way suits me best.”

“Good to use your strengths.”

“I was going to have Hawke come with me, but _that_ isn't an option, so I see,” Fenris admitted, eyes softening on her before narrowing on Ash. “Do you realize what you've done, Qunari?”

Ash took an intimidating step. “I have mated with _my kadan_ and given her womb what it desired. _That_ is no concern of yours.”

“You _mated_ with my _friend_ ,” Fenris hissed, markings glowing slightly. “You put her in a vulnerable state in this dangerous time by impregnating her. So you had best protect her with your life. And if you _ever_ hurt her—with your fist, with your _words_ , with a _lack_ of respect or affection _—_ I will kill you. I will rip your beating heart out of your huge chest and show it to you before I crush it in my hand.”

Hawke covered her open mouth in worry, but Ash tilted his horns back, assessing Fenris anew. He nodded after a few heated moments, satisfied by something he saw. “I have already taken arrow, poison, daggers and more for her, elf. I do not need warning from another to do my duty by my _kadan_.” Ash slid his hand around to her belly, lightly rubbing with the pads of his fingers over the clothing there. “I have heard you, and I respect it because you respect my _kadan_. I do not...find insult as usual with such words. But that is limited, elf. Tread carefully.”

“Thank you,” Fenris replied, the glow of the lyrium in his skin fading.

“Will you stay a short while until everything is sorted, Fenris?”

“Yes, Hawke. I won't leave without telling you.”

“Good. We'll talk more. Varric will have Wicked Grace planned, of course,” Hawke smiled, glad to see the elf smile back. Her stomach grumbled a little and she sighed, patting it. “Yes, sweetie, I know. You're hungry and tired like me.”

Fenris smiled as she yawned again. Ash grunted and pulled her closer. “You must rest, _kadan_. Now. And if you _fight_ me over it, I will _carry_ you to bed and kill the dwarf if he gets in my way.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm going. Dearest, did you know that your son _loves_ molasses candies? Varric's hiding them from me now so I don't eat _all_ of them.” Hawke snickered as Ash smirked and gently tapped his brow to her head. “See you tonight, Fenris. I'll have dinner with you and Varric.”

“And your giant shadow, I imagine.”

“Of course.” Hawke laughed and reached up to kiss Ash's cheek as he stared at her with amusement he was fighting. “I never go anywhere without him.”

She'd gotten partially down the stairs after waving, expecting to hear heavy Qunari steps behind her. They followed, but only after soft words passed her friend's lips as Fenris said to Ash, “Love her well. She deserves it.”

 


	26. Hormonal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank the Maker for Varric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

It went _much_ more smoothly than Varric had anticipated. They finished chowing down dinner around Bull's table—the official meeting place, it seemed—and dove right in the moment he'd gotten his Wicked Grace deck ready. Ash didn't play, and he kept Hawke firmly against his chest in his lap as he sat close to the table. Occasionally the big ox would bend, whisper something in her ear and smirk, fingers toying with her hair in its tie.

All of the behavior seemed to continually surprise Fenris. It would have done the same to Varric if he'd not seen certain things himself already and realized that despite all the strangeness...well, Ash seriously loved Hawke. It was clear with every small action, every time he checked her plate or cup, every little glance to her of the night.

She'd mentioned the slight argument she'd had with Fenris early that morning when the pair had met on the ramparts, and Varric couldn't blame his elven friend. It was a huge shock. And Fenris being Fenris had threatened Ash, walking luckily away from it with respect and not lacking in limbs. Because, despite being a jealous broody elf, he was, thank the Maker, not entirely _stupid_.

Varric's own bruise had finally begun to fade just a tad with the potions, and Hawke asked about it the moment she'd seen him adjust awkwardly in his chair. “Still in pain, Varric?”

“Nah. Just forget its there until I feel a good zap and can't breathe for a second.”

Ash grunted in total amusement, the bastard, and Varric could _tell_.

Fenris frowned and glanced toward Varric in the discussion while the dwarf gave the smirking ox a knowing expression. “What? What's she talking about?”

“Oh, this,” Varric said and gallantly opened his coat further down, yanking his shirt a little to show off the sexy chest hair and fading huge bruise.

“That...looks painful,” Fenris murmured wincing a little. “How long have you had it?”

“A couple of weeks or so.”

“Horse kick you or what? You are _level_ for a good kick.”

Varric jerked his chin up and smiled at Ash, brows raised. “Stallion punched me right in the chest. Big fucker. I sailed a few feet and took Dorian out with me.”

Instantly Fenris glared at Ash. Hawke held up one of her hands as she played a card. “Before you shout know that Varric made the mistake of getting too close after I was unconscious and wounded, and Ash himself was barely conscious and wounded while in a protective state. All while I am...you know.”

“...you idiot,” Fenris chuckled and clapped Varric's shoulder. Varric just shrugged with a smirk.

Ash, for his part, was stretched out like a king, his legs crossed at his ankles under the table, one arm on the chair, the other on Hawke's back resting as he looked over her shoulder. Was that...some sort of prideful respect Varric saw in his eyes? “The dwarf survives.”

“I should thank you, Ash. Got a story out of it and plenty of massages from ladies who were so proud of me taking on Qunari attackers by myself.”

“You little shit,” Hawke snickered between her teeth and tossed a copper at him.

“What did you expect me to tell them? That the good lookin' Qunari kicked my ass with a single hit?”

“Well it would be the _truth_. Honestly, I think you survived _because_ you're a dwarf who can take hits.”

Varric rolled his eyes in humor, gesturing slowly, “Yes, sweetheart, and the truth would have lost me _many_ an admirer. Not like Ash needs anymore female eyes on him anyway. He's got your attention, so he can share.”

“Say what?” Hawke asked offhandedly as she trumped Bull's card, the Qunari biting his lip as he watched Varric. Her tone was so disinterested that it was dangerous. Even Fenris winced.

Varric swallowed some of his ale, shrugging it off like nothing. “Oh, you know. Just big muscles getting eyeballs. Bull puts up with it. I put up with it. It happens when you're handsome.”

“Drink piss, Varric,” Fenris scowled.

“Hey, you're _pretty_. You get different eyes on you. All those noble ladies with dirty fetishes about elf ears.”

“Shut up.”

Hawke's look had officially soured a bit. “Any bitch stupid enough to stare at _my_ man will lose her head.”

Ash looked a bit amused and kept stroking her back.

Bull quickly downed some whiskey with a nod. “Nice, Hawke. But it happens.”

“Yeah, Hawke. Like you don't get eyeballed.” Ash narrowed his eyes while Varric thanked Bull with a wink. “Well, we all know Sparkler will light those women on fire if they get _too_ chatty again with you, Bull.”

“No reason to. We're not anything named,” Bull grunted, unsatisfied with his new hand of cards. “Just occasionally...extra friends.”

“Please, Bull. You like each other. Just accept it.”

Hawke smiled at Bull with some concern. “I, for one, rather like you two. You're adorable.”

“See, _that_ word is not assuring.”

Even Ash snorted as he cracked that huge neck of his. “Finding _kadan_ is uncomfortable at first, Hawke...particularly...this kind.”

“Oh, I know. You were _really_ uncomfortable. You wanted to kill me for it.”

“Not now, Hawke,” Varric hissed at her. She'd missed the dark expression on the Qunari's face, one of dark disappointment and loathing, no doubt self-directed. Fenris glanced to him with mild concern.

“What? It's the truth. I'm not afraid of it.” Hawke held out her palm while her right hand held her cards. “Drop, please.”

“Sweetie, I barely have any left.”

“They're not for me, Varric. They're for your giant nephew, and he is very demanding.”

“ _Right_.” Oh she got him there. Varric rolled his eyes and dropped a candy in her fingers, watching as she tossed it into her mouth and sucked on it. “My giant nephew is gonna be easier to deal with when he's not influencing you.”

“You think his dad hit hard, Varric? Imagine a toddler getting mad because you took his toy away, and he stomps on your foot. A toddler, breaking your toes.” Bull chuckled, grinning at Hawke. “You're in for it.”

“How far along are you?” Fenris quietly asked, eyes on her over his mug.

“Fairly along. Discovered it after a few weeks, and that was...a few weeks ago. A few months now, maybe?”

Bull nodded, sniffing as he leaned back in his chair. “Gonna be showing a lot soon. Qunari grow quicker toward the middle of their carrying. Last longer, too, in a mixed situation, I think. Extra month? Can't remember.”

“Fantastic,” Hawke grumbled and patted her belly. “Sorry, little love, but you're going to drive me mad pressing on my bladder for that long.”

“Guess what, Broody? The kid repels magic naturally after the Fade shit. Don't you just love that?”

Fenris raised his brows in surprise, then smiled a little. “Good lad.”

“So...make a decision yet?” Varric hesitantly asked her, his honey eyes darting up to look at Ash. The Qunari's jaw was locked a little, no doubt still bothered by her earlier comment.

Hawke sighed and folded her hand with a grunt. “I think it best we leave within a few days.”

“And go where?” Varric demanded. “Who's gonna help you with this...this complicated term? Help you survive it all?”

“I cannot _sit_ here and do nothing. The Inquisition itself is on the fence about us being here, so why bother? I'll give what last bit of aid I can to the Inquisitor and go.” Hawke shrugged, sullen. “We'll travel, find my sister, speak to Alistair, and settle where we can. Lay low.”

The table immediately quieted at her words. Varric felt the depression instantly weigh him down. Fenris was staring into nothingness. Even Bull looked disgruntled. Quietly, Varric whispered, “Hawke, no one wants you to leave. No one's asking you to. No one is...saying you're not helping or haven't.”

“Varric, dear, have you _heard_ some of the things said of us?” she hissed through her teeth, not wanting to set Ash off.

“Yeah....” He gritted his teeth.

Some of the gossip had been downright _nasty_ about his best friend, and once a few key talkers had found out he knew what was being said, a lot of it shut down quickly, especially when he, in anger, threatened to bring them to the giant Qunari lover of Hawke for Ash to judge; that had scared _many_ silent, because they'd all _seen_ what he'd done to that assassin in Skyhold. They'd called Hawke a whore, a Qunari-lover spreading her legs for the Qun...that she was invaded more than Thedas.

Varric had dealt with it himself, knowing if he remotely whispered the shit to Feran that the Inquisitor would have snapped and blown up on people, then probably brought them before Ash anyway as punishment. Lavellan took things seriously, especially when distrust could be bred so easily with people he very much respected.

“Then you understand.”

All was silent until Fenris quietly spoke up. “I'll help you get where you need to go, then be on my way for this other. Consider it...a gift of sorts, if you want. I just want to help you, Hawke.”

“What about Bethany? You already said she'd be better off here, learning and safe,” Varric countered, ready to fight her on every point. Maker, he got it, they had to do what was best for the new family they were having but...but being out there, in the wild or in some scum city wasn't any better than here.

Hawke rubbed her temples tiredly. “Then I'll have her sent here.”

Ready to throttle her at that point, he grumbled, “And you don't think a Qunari matching Ash's description isn't gonna stand out in Denerim? C'mon, Hawke. You're branded.”

“I _know_ , Varric!” she snapped, eyes flaming at him in anger. Varric felt the whiplash from it and terrible worry and sadness ate him alive. Ash growled a little, eyes narrowed on him before his big hand gently stroked Hawke's cheek. She bent and rested her brow to the table. “I know that no matter where I go or what I do, I'm in danger. My love is in danger. My child is in danger. All because some stupid Qunari can't let the _fuck_ go of him and think they have _rights_ to my son. Do not _speak_ as if I am unaware of this!”

Varric swallowed and closed his eyes. Fenris unexpectedly rubbed his shoulder with his own in support. Suddenly, though, Ash spoke as he took a deep breath. “Their focus is shifting. It will just take time.”

“What do you know?” Bull asked, instantly sitting forward.

“No details. But something is planned. Something large enough to require the entire Qun's focus. That means spies. That means their attempt to ally with you was not without coincidence. It was probably a test.” Ash rotated his jaw, glancing to Bull. “You know what it means when the Qun cannot be given the peaceful way.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Bull hissed and crossed his arms. “Any idea when?”

“No. It isn't just this...magister that's risen their concerns for Thedas.”

“Then what?” Bull asked.

The rest turned to look at Ash, even Hawke over her shoulder. “I do not know. Some other force. Eyes narrow at one another in the halls of this place for a reason. My gut tells me your Inquisitor will face something else when this is done. Something he cannot foresee. None of us can. But it will be blinding, Iron Bull, and it will be close to you. Be prepared for betrayal.”

“Fucking hell,” Varric snapped, wishing he had Bianca in his hands to shoot something. “But, but all of this...it'll draw focus off of you guys?”

“With time.”

“You're _certain?_ ” Bull questioned, finger tapping the table top.

Ash tilted his huge horns. “A source told me of the distraction, yes. And I've observed the tensions _here_ myself. Look closer. Fingers twitch too much as eyes linger. Many whispers, Bull. Watch the servants, especially the elves. They act like my men did in the compound—restrained to the point of bursting in their silence.”

“Hm.”

“You trust the source?” Fenris asked, leaning forward.

Hawke turned in her spot on Ash's legs and stared him down for a few heated moments, questions in her eyes getting answers from his. She finally exhaled, nodding at Fenris. “Yes. He does. So I will.”

“I could...swing by Kirkwall. Get Merrill. She'd be happy to see you, help with...things,” Fenris offered, thinking as he toyed with his mug. “Bring her wherever you stop.”

“That...might work. I'll have to have a _huge_ talk with her first,” Hawke almost whispered, and Varric knew why.

Their elven friend, Daisy as Varric called her, had stopped using blood magic after losing her keeper to her own activities, but the temptation would always be there. And there was no way in hell Ash would let someone like that around Hawke in her state. Probably at all.

“Horse riding will be...bad very soon, if it won't be now,” Bull advised. Varric had caught on long ago that the Qunari had attached to his friend and Ash, whether he'd wanted to or not. “That's a safety hazard in many ways.”

“Then we leave tomorrow. The sooner the better.”

Varric slammed his pint down. “Damn it, Hawke, just _think_.”

“I've made my decision.” Hawke locked her jaw in defense and climbed awkwardly off Ash's legs. “Respect it. I won't send you letters if you don't.”

He was ready to slam his face into the table, but her gentle hand firmly gripped his arm. “Varric...this place...it's a _home_ for you now, until everything's sorted and you can go back to Kirkwall. I see that, I appreciate it for you. But it is not my home. I do not belong here. Fenris was right.”

Varric whipped his head to glare at the elf, who raised a hand in defense, green eyes a bit wide. “I said that none would appreciate or care as much as we had. I was...trying to get her to come with me. But I didn't lie. She's right.”

Maker, he felt surrounded. With a tired glance he looked to Bull, who shrugged, then up toward Ash's face. “Ash...?”

“We go.” Ash flicked his eyes over Hawke with finality. “My _kadan_ must be safe and fulfilled.”

“Exactly,” she nodded.

Varric frowned a little as Ash slowly smirked, continuing, “Or she will be a nightmare to endure.”

“You bastard,” Hawke sniped, spinning with a slap. Ash easily caught her wrist, tilting his head and daring her to contradict him. She sneered at him, hormones obviously in full swing still from Varric riling her up. “If I did not carry your son, I would climb you and beat you about your horns.”

“Which would result in only your own pain.” Ash sighed above her. “Do not be childish.”

Hawke's eyes lit up with even more fury. Oh _no_. “Childish? I'm _filled_ with child! I'm filled with each and every opinion about _my_ life, _my_ situation and _my_ health. You think I wished for this? That when your rut happened I was hoping this would happen immediately? That I would sit back, mothering while the creature I killed that revived itself walks this ground slaughtering innocents? You know nothing of me, Qunari—only what you _want_ to know and bed!”

She twisted out of the big man's reach and stormed from the tavern, absolutely furious. Varric clapped a hand over his eyes and reached out, daring to grab Ash's wrist as the giant automatically moved to follow. “Give her a minute.”

“No.” Ash jerked his wrist free and started to stomp after her.

“Seriously, Hawke _hates_ when people don't give her space if she's walked away. She'll snap, say worse things she'll regret, and it'll be a pain in the ass all around.” Varric slid his hand down his face, noticing Fenris's nod of reinforcement. “Maker, that woman. I love her like my own sister, but _ugh_! She needs a knock in the head sometimes.”

“Consider it done,” Ash grumbled.

“Not by your head! You'll kill her,” Varric teased, then about shit himself when he realized what he'd said. “Shit, um...I didn't...mean...that.”

Ash had gone deadly silent, those eyes so sharp on him that Varric wasn't sure how he wasn't bleeding. Bull jumped to his feet and walked around, not so subtly putting himself a little between the two. “So. I'll go out, track where she went, come let you know.”

Dorian waltzed up at that moment, one brow arched as he assessed the drama of the scene. “Oh dear me, what _have_ I missed?”

“Dorian, go find Hawke. Distract her. Let her scream if she wants,” Bull demanded, eye on the Vint.

“For? She's a grown girl.”

“She's a _hormonal_ grown girl who's furious at _us_ ,” Varric clarified. “Please, Sparkler?”

“The things I _do_ for you people. But fine, yes. For Hawke. Poor dear,” Dorian shook his head and walked back out, Bull's eye right on the Vint's back in gratitude.

Varric watched the stand off slowly begin between the two Qunari as Ash's expression got more and more dangerous, _much_ like it used to look back on his dais. It was kind of scary how fast those memories came back to Varric just looking at Ash now—along with his gulping, gut-churning reactions.

“ _Move_ ,” Ash lowly growled, focus fully on Bull and sparing Varric.

“Look, you were never around the females after rutting, right? _I_ was a few times for reports. They're a bit crazy, and you _don't_ want to piss them off by staying in their faces.” Bull stretched his shoulders to their full width, looking intimidating as fuck to anyone around...well, except the former Arishok. Bless him for standing up to someone he respected so much. “Trust me. You're gonna have to learn that things are going to change a bit with you two over this. She's gonna get much more snappy and set off by unexpected things, and it's gonna set you off in return. There's _emotional_ change coming.”

“She is _mine,_ carrying _my son_ ,” Ash hissed, possession dripping from his voice. “And I will speak with her.”

“Then understand her,” Fenris countered, standing up. “Respect her.”

The glare Ash sent Fenris was _tangible._ “I do, _elf_.”

Varric sighed, pushed his chair back, and smiled in frustrated empathy. “Ash, trust me, you can know her all kinds of ways and _still_ fuck this up. We only got as close as we did because of shit like this and learning how to handle ourselves at our worst. This isn't some Qun thing—order doesn't fix it. It's raw, harsh emotions, and in her state, the hormones make them random and wild.”

Ash took in his words, only his Varric noticed with pride, and twitched his fingers at his side, eyes on Bull. “Your _bas saarebas_ has five minutes.”

 

 


	27. Punching Posts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Dorian. What a character.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

 

 

Maker, she was such a bitch.

Hawke petted her mount's nose, tears welling in her eyes but not falling. She was just so tired of the discussions, of feeling unwanted.

She'd given _everything—_ blood, family, friends, her freedom—just to try to save Kirkwall, and for what? A war to break apart Thedas, a magister she killed to revive itself and blow the problem into even bigger proportions. What did she have left? She could go home, try to raise her child in Kirkwall and fear everyday for her son until the city was completely made right and remotely safe. She could live in the woods, in a fucking hut if she had to.

But she wouldn't be part of the fight anymore.

She didn't regret the baby, but she sorely regretted his timing. Hawke had truly hoped the rutting she'd gone through with Ash wasn't going to take, and even when it had, Bull was shocked by it. It shouldn't have done so easily. The only thing the one-eyed Qunari could say was that the bond between she and Ash must have affected everything to a greater degree than they could see. Made her receptive. Hawke just figured based on Ash's past breeding success rate that her man was just... _gifted_ with strong seed, and she hoped that was not going to be a problem.

Hawke bit her lip as the mare nickered and bumped her nose into her palm.

Maker, the things she'd _said_ in the tavern...to Varric, to...Ash. He'd only been trying to tease her, to lighten her spirits that had sunk so fast and defensively, and she'd snapped at him. Like...like a hormonal woman.

“Ugh,” she grunted, pressing her face to the horse's. “What are we gonna do, girl?”

“To begin with, I'd suggest getting over whatever it is that's got you all down. It's a rather annoying state of being and does no one any good,” the sultry voice addressed her from behind, startling her.

Hawke turned, glaring at the Tevinter magister as he smiled.

“Come, darling. You know I'm right. This mood doesn't suit you. You're strong, feisty. You _love_ a _Qunari_. That takes...strength.”

“How so?” she asked, patting the mare one last time before turning to face Dorian.

“Well, _physically_ for one.” Dorian winked as he leaned against one of the supportive beams in the stables. “Trust me, I understand. Bull is...well, Qunari, too. But it takes strength of heart to...understand their needs and emotional _absences_ and help them learn that not all of us can be philosophical oxen.”

Hawke fought the smile from his joke and crossed her arms tightly.

“Look, precious, whatever it is you need to scream out? Do it. It's eating you alive and going to consume everyone around you in turn.”

“Want me to scream, mage? Fine.” Hawke felt the rage boiling up hotly, ready to explode. “I _failed_ my city, I failed my _people_ , Coryhpeus lives because of _me_ , and I am now _pregnant_ and unable to do _shit_ about it!”

“We're off to a good start. What else?” Dorian asked, smiling, brows up.

“I hate people telling me what is best for me. None of you see how temporary this all is. Your organization isn't _meant_ to last, not by its very nature! Staying here in that lie doesn't benefit me, and no one wants us here anyway. We're in the way, despite what we've done to help.” Hawke turned and squarely punched a wooden post in her anger. “Varric is too scared he'll lose me, Fenris would whisk me away from _everyone_ if I gave the fucking word, and Ash...Ash is....”

“The root of some problems?” Dorian asked, raising a hand off his crossed arms in suggestion.

“He's...been wonderful.” Hawke slugged the post again, wincing as the skin broke over her knuckles and blood trickled down. “Supportive, protective, caring. Empowering me and pulling me out of my weaknesses...and I snap and scream at him for nothing. For being there. For...for _impregnating me_. He _did_ do that at a terrible time. And even if it weren't possible, he _tried_ for _three_ full days, and that was only his rutting—not the countless times we've had sex before or since. And here I am, blaming him for a biological problem with the rutting. Maker, I can't decide what to feel about it. Am I angry? Sad? Horny? What? You tell me what to feel, Dorian.”

“ _Well._ ” The mage sighed dramatically as he shifted his hips. “You said it yourself, Hawke. You _are_ pregnant. Hormones, sweetling.”

“Yeah, well _I've_ shit to do. I love this baby, but, _Maker_ , it had to come now.”

“Frequent sex tends to have that result between a man and a woman, so I hear.”

Hawke stared at her blood on the post. “It wasn't supposed to happen yet. It's rare.”

“Perhaps for most, but Hawke, you're... _you_. What _doesn't_ happen to you?” Dorian laughed almost exasperatedly. “It's like Lavellan. What doesn't happen to him now? You've been hand picked by some force of history, and that is that unfortunately.”

At that she hit the wood again.

It was true. Damn near everything shitty that could happen to her had. The Blight taking her home. Carver's death. Gamlen's cheating the family out of prosperity for so long. Her mother's murder. Bethany being taken. Isabela's theft. Anders' betrayal. Dealing with Meredith, fighting Ash, the mages and Templars breaking apart Kirkwall.

 _Corypheus_.

She screamed and hit the pole again and again, losing control. She hadn't even noticed the damage done until Dorian caught her fist on the next swing and held it tightly.

She hissed the pain through her teeth as he gripped, getting her attention. Skin had split all over, blood dripping. She might have even broken a knuckle. Or two.

“Better?”

“No,” she grumbled. “Now I'm just angry.”

“Ah, yes, _but_ you got to hit something. It's obviously been what you've needed for a while.” Dorian changed his hold on her hand, wincing. “Ouch, darling. Such pretty hands, too.”

“Please, they're calloused and beaten.”

“No they're not,” Dorian countered and yanked her over a little to look at her wounds in the lamp light. “Splinters. You will not like this.”

Hawke ground her teeth and looked away. “Do what you must.”

Dorian began plucking the pieces of wood out of her bare, bleeding and raw flesh. Hawke closed her eyes tightly, refusing to show how much the pain hurt. She'd had worse. She knew she'd had worse; her body was fairly near broken after fighting Ash, and she'd had to heal for quite some time. “Now, we're going to clean this pretty hand and heal it. Then you're going to take a safe tea and relax. Don't let your ox rile you up again. Or Varric, the blessed twit.”

“They're worried,” she murmured, eyeing the bloody hand in Dorian's gentle hold.

“Well of course they are! It's...what one _does_ when one loves, no matter how one loves.”

Hawke slid her eyes up to his knowingly. “And _do_ you love Bull?”

“Now, now, this isn't about _me_. Not this time.” Dorian smirked again, having caught her attempt, and tugged her along until he passed the tavern and slid into the quiet infirmary. The mage carefully cleaned her wound as she bit her lip, then gave her a healing potion. “Drink. Won't harm the little one.”

Hawke downed it, sighing as Dorian opted for bandaging her hand. “No stitches?”

“They won't...work well on your knuckles. And, well, I'm...not good at that. If _you_ wish to rouse that pissy surgeon, be my guest.”

“I'm good,” Hawke breathed out. She'd had enough of that poor flustered woman with Ash's arrow. “I can handle pain.”

“Sure, but the stress doesn't help the pregnancy. You'll need this healed before you go anywhere. Infection while traveling is dangerous in any state.”

“So use healing magic on the spot.”

Dorian quirked a brow. “I...tend to play best with flames, not healing.”

“Maker, do I miss Anders.” Hawke rolled her eyes. “Then find me a healing mage.”

“Now that I can do. Let us go to Solas. The pesky elf is rather good with spells.”

Hawke looked away. “That he is.”

The infirmary door banged open as they moved to exit. Dorian graciously pushed her behind him at first, hand on his staff, then paused.

Ash stood in the door way, sniffing and looking absolutely dangerous, like a lion that had cornered its prey. He growled low and ducked, filling the entry way entirely with his bulk.

“Um, Hawke, dear? Do call off your man. I don't wish to set fire to the building we're in, _but_.”

“Ash,” she sighed.

“I smell your _blood_ all over the grounds,” Ash snapped, sounding terrifying in his fury. Dorian flinched at the tone, and even Hawke swallowed nervously hearing him sound like he had so long ago. So _Arishok_. “Explain. _Now_.”

Dorian relaxed his stance a little and jerked her wrist up. “She lost her temper and punched out a poor wooden post in the stables. I've fixed her up best I can, and now I'm taking her to Solas to finish the job.”

Ash slowly relaxed his face from the anger and danger to extreme annoyance and frustration. “You hurt yourself,” he said, making her feel like she _was_ childish.

Her response did not help that feeling settle. “ _He_ told me to!”

“I did not! I told you to scream, not punch, though you obviously needed _to_ punch.”

“ _Kadan_ ,” Ash grumbled, eyes hot on her. “From now on you spar when the anger takes you...with _me_.”

Dorian held up his hands. “Thank you! See, Hawke, you won't cut your hand open on that chest. Well...it is _hard_ and muscled enough....”

“Thank you, Dorian, for your help,” Hawke managed to say in both a friendly and dismissive tone. Ash hadn't blinked.

Dorian pursed his handsome lips. “Yes. Well. I shall fetch Solas then. Stay put. You owe me, darling.”

“Thank you.”

Ash sidestepped so the mage could exit, shutting the door behind him to give them privacy in the thankfully empty infirmary. The Qunari leaned against a wall where the roof sloped up, letting him stand up right fully. “You are angry,” he began.

“Yep.”

“Because you feel cornered and pushed by others. Because there is no clear solution and no easily discernible safe spot.”

“Yes.”

Bless him, her love looked actually uncomfortable. “You...are angry with me.”

“I shouldn't be. You did nothing wrong.” Hawke rubbed an itchy spot on her cheek, the blood that soaked through the bandage painting her skin there. She grunted and tried to wipe it off, but a huge gray hand caught her wrist and stilled it. Ash searched her, then gestured for her to sit down. She obeyed, emotionally drained, while he unwrapped her hand and perused the wounds on her knuckles. It struck her that she'd said some rather unfair things, and she stubbornly wished to ignore it, but her conscience wouldn't allow it. “I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that you...are only interested in some things. My anger took me.”

Ash huffed out a low breath as he tilted her hand. “This will not heal comfortably.”

“Thus Solas. And I'm still sorry. You wouldn't have gone through _everything_ if you just wanted to...use me.”

“Sense after all,” Ash grunted, obviously unhappy about magic being used and feeling awkward about her apology. He shook it off, though, fingers rubbing her palm a little. “Speak, Hawke. Share your burdens. That is what we do, yes?”

She fought the small smile as it threatened to calm her. “I...fine. Like I told Dorian, I'm just angry and tired. Nothing I've done seems to have had any good effect. I've lost too much. There's no where to go, and I've failed.”

Rather than telling her in Qunlat to shove it like he usually did, Ash managed to kneel on one leg next to her, making them almost eye level in her chair. “History desired to happen regardless of what you wished. That you tried to fight it and still shaped it is...astounding.”

When she said nothing, just stared at her bloody raw knuckles, he continued softly, “But you are not the only one with failures and loss. You are not the only one _here_ with personal reasons to fight the magister. It is not _your_ burden anymore.”

“It will always be mine,” she whispered, swallowing hot pain that wanted to burst in her head in the form of a nasty headache.

“No. Lay it down, Hawke. Do what you can, but accept your position and work within it. There is choice within the role. Choose to work from the shadows and protect ourselves, rather than the front line.”

“I thought you broke ties with the Qun,” Hawke quietly said.

Ash snorted. “I will not give it anything it wishes. I am nothing in it. But it was part of me once, shaped much of my understanding. Am I wrong in this instance, Hawke? Without defense, can you answer that?”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “No, you're not wrong.”

“Then...?”

“We are selfish,” Hawke murmured, non-wounded hand coming to rest on her growing stomach. “We create a family when it isn't safe. We want our own life when it is impossible. Our child may see his own parents die in this, may be taken...because we couldn't control ourselves and hoped to beat the odds. The world might end on us.”

Ash gripped her jaw and yanked her face down until their eyes were completely level. She glared; he glared back. “We were _given_ this for a reason. Until we see what that is, we cannot think we know. Stop with this foolishness.”

“I'm being realistic, not foolish!” She sniffed, anger rising again. “Where will he grow safely, huh? Where will we live? How will we provide for him? We're _hunted,_ and a magister and his personal army of Templars are on the loose.”

“We will go wherever we must to protect him as necessary. There is gold to be had, land to be farmed, animals to be hunted. Perhaps it is not a life you wish for, being _nobility_ and human, but it is what we can do if we must.” Ash furrowed his heavy brow. “And it might not even come to that. Let us see before you frame the future.”

Her damn chin quivered just enough to betray her anger.

Ash pressed his brow to hers, eyes closing. “I know you fear, but you cannot let it rule you.”

“Are you...afraid?”

“Once I would have killed you for such a question. Now...yes. I feel...fear at times,” he snorted under his breath and opened his eyes. “Hawke, you know I watch for attacks. You cannot imagine what I felt when she took you from me on that horse.”

“I...I'm sorry. I can't imagine that. I know you're afraid about us being attacked and whatnot. I meant....” She looked away to her belly. “Are you afraid...about...him? Dealing with this...child and being there and helping and...being a father.”

Gentle understanding crossed his face while he reached for her stomach, holding his palm over hers. “Yes,” he admitted. “I have never raised _imekari_ before. I do not wish to...fail him. The Qun let me fail the others; this would be my own doing.”

“Neither do I,” she huffed and blinked away the frustration.

A soft knock at the door had them parting slightly before Dorian slipped his coiffed head in. “I owe you silvers,” he grunted, opening the door and revealing Solas behind him.

“Shame on you,” Hawke said, but smiled at the mage.

Dorian shrugged, bent and bowed elegantly. “You will be seen to. Take care, darling. I've got my own Qunari to go find.”

“Tavern. You two are adorable, just accept it,” Hawke nearly sang as she replied, getting a knowing nod from the Tevinter as he winked and left. Solas quietly came forward, blinking a bit in the darkened room. “Healing magic won't scare the child, will it?”

“No. Instinct gauges what is threat and what is not. Healing magic is...universally warm, gentle.” He took her wounded hand, tsk'ed, and held it between his, eyes closing for a moment.

Hawke sighed as she felt the old warmth of healing magic instantly wrap over her skin, encouraging the ripped areas to meld together over the rawness. The elf was right—the baby had stayed very calm, unafraid of the magic. After a minute or two, Solas opened his eyes and looked over the healed damage. Hawke winced; the area was still very sore and bruised, but the tears of her skin were gone, so infection wouldn't be a risk anymore.

“Thank you, Solas. Sorry to have bothered you this evening,” Hawke softly spoke and flexed her fingers.

“Not a problem.” The elf glanced down at her growing belly with a sad smile. “Doing well?”

“Seems to be.”

Solas nodded. “Good. Try to...relax if you can. It helps, so I've gathered.”

“Yeah. Relaxing isn't...easy.”

“But it can be done. Take a breath, let it out, and have a moment.” Solas bowed his head. “If there is nothing else, I will head back to my studies.”

“Please, don't let us intrude further.”

“Good night.”

Hawke and Ash both watched the elf leave, grateful for his help. The Qunari took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come. We rest.”

“And if I really do wish to leave tomorrow?” she asked hesitantly as they exited the infirmary.

Ash brought her sore knuckles up to his bent face and kissed them. “Then we go.”

Awed by the romance of the gesture, Hawke blushed a little and turned away, only speaking once they'd returned to the room they'd kept. She undressed and climbed tiredly into bed, smiling into the pillow as she felt his weight shift the mattress dramatically and she was pulled into that huge chest.

“I promise to try not to become a nightmare,” she quietly teased in the dark.

“Hawke,” Ash snickered, kissed her brow and settled into the bed more comfortably. “There is no fun in that.”

 


	28. Disembark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

The next day was rough. Ash woke to Hawke already packing their things. It seemed her mind was stubbornly made up—that or she wanted to go while she still had the nerve to do so. Fear had kept her paralyzed here, he recognized that. After the attack outside of Skyhold, it was very understandable. He himself hadn't been quite sure what to do.

He agreed to let her go deal with the Inquisitor while he finished supplying them for the journey. Ash took Hawke's pouch of coin with him, purchasing more elixirs and poultices to begin with. They'd have to see if they could purchase their mounts as well. He bought a couple more furs, a set of loose clothing for her to wear, and even some new clothing for himself...or as close as the trader could get to his pants size. Satisfied with that, Ash took the purchases back to their room and repacked everything until he felt it ready. Then he left to pick up her armor from the forge master, nodding when it looked shining and acceptable.

Ash dropped the armor off, then strode toward the main hall to find the War Room, where Hawke would undoubtedly be talking.   
  
Varric was standing in the corridor to the room itself, wringing his hands. With a sad expression, he looked back upon hearing Ash's measured steps.

“You really are leaving, huh,” Varric almost whispered.

Ash nodded. “She cannot question herself now.”

The dwarf looked almost depressed, but sighed in understanding. “You'll...do everything you can, right? Take care of her? I don't mean just protect her from shit, but you know... _take care_ of her.”

“She is my _kadan_. Yes.”

“Good.” Varric sniffed. “Fenris wants to go with you for part of it. I'd advise you let him do it. He's gonna be super pissy if he doesn't, and _I'm_ so not dealing with His Broodiness.”

“The elf isn't my concern,” Ash automatically said, arms crossing.

“Did you know those lyrium brands on his skin let him phase his very fingers invisibly into your chest and crush your heart?” Varric drawled, glancing upward with a brow lifted. “Handy ability to have, Ash, just saying. I don't doubt you. Maker knows you're a big enough bastard to deal with anything, but...with Hawke out of the fighting now...it might help to have someone watch your back until you're at the destination, yeah?”

Damn the dwarf for making tactical sense. Ash blinked slowly, exhaled, then nodded. “If she wishes.”

“Excellent. Weight off my mind.”

The doors suddenly opened, showing Hawke exiting with a tight look of annoyance.  
  
Varric almost spoke out while Ash assessed her expression further, but both were interrupted by the Inquisitor himself following her out. The elf grabbed her arm, forcing her to pause as he stared intently. “Hawke, you may stay. You've done enough to help this organization. I don't require anything else. Keep yourself safe. Let us give back.”

“Your spymaster made it clear that we bring only threats,” Hawke managed to say without a ton of venom. Just a little. “And I understand that. I appreciate your support, Inquisitor, and I hope to get these letters hand-delivered for you as one last gesture.”

Neither one had yet to see Varric and Ash standing near the lower stair case and open door to the Ambassador's office. Feran frowned and held her wrist. “I don't blame you, Hawke. For any of this.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, watching the elf.

“Hawke, Varric...will be very upset. He's been... _happy_ with you near. I know he tries to smile and joke and go with all of this, but deep down he's a good man trapped in a situation by guilt and trying to do the right thing. I applaud him. He is...a good friend.” Feran tilted his face, black hair drifting across his neck. “If I cannot talk you out of this...please don't leave without telling him.”

“I wouldn't, even at my angriest,” Hawke asserted with a bow of her head. “Besides...he has you, now. Don't ever betray that trust, Inquisitor. I'll kill you, and if I am too swollen to do it myself, my love will on my behalf.”

Varric inhaled roughly under his breath at her declaration and lowered his head.

“Understood,” Feran grunted and let go of her wrist. That same hand that had held her rubbed his neck. “Well...take what you need.”

“Ash has already been making purchases.”

“Damn it, you need not spend the coin!”

“You cannot afford to cover everyone's needs with your own,” Hawke softly stated, smiling a little now. “It's all right. We're not clan you're responsible for. I understand the need there, where it comes from, and even dealt with it myself with my own companions.”

Feran raised his chin. “Fine, but appease my Dalish instincts...and...my guilt for your trip into the Fade. Take the mounts, and _do not_ protest me or I shall _kick_ you out of my hold. You humans and your pride.”

“It's all right.” Hawke chuckled, and the sound eased a knot that had tied in Ash's chest the night before. “Human pride? The Dalish are _full_ of their own, elf. I'd know, I've worked with a clan of you.”

“True.”

Right then Feran glanced over and saw them standing at the far end of the corridor.  
  
Ash walked forward, Varric behind a little. When he grew close enough, the elf bowed his head. Ash inclined his similarly in respect. “Take what you need.”

“Items have been purchased.”

“Take the mounts. Any other supplies.”

Ash glanced over Hawke, her eyes squaring off with Varric's saddened ones. “We will.”

The Inquisitor sighed, clapped a hand on Hawke's shoulder, and gave her a brief smile. “Be well. Go forth. And may the Dread Wolf take those who mean you harm.”

“Thanks, Feran,” Hawke whispered with a soft smile of her own.

“ _Ma serannas_ , Hawke. Now I shall return to that disaster of a meeting and continue business. Goodbye, both of you,” Feran replied, waved lightly with his left hand, and turned away.

“Do you have everything ready?” she asked Ash, eyes strong.

Ash looked over her for any hesitation and found none. “Yes, except for the mounts, anything else you wish for, and...the elf, if we take him.”

“Fenris? Yeah. Good idea.”

Ash readily felt the tension between his female and her dearest friend and sighed to himself. He bent, nuzzled against her cheek, fingers brushing her belly. “I will acquire the rest.”

“Thank you, love,” she softly said and kissed him for a second.

Ash spun and went to leave, only stopping when Varric called, “Be sure you tell me bye, too, you punching stallion.”

With a smirk on his face, Ash nodded and left through the hall and out into the courtyard, eyes searching for the strange looking elf with the branding. He found him near an area where the Bull had set up and was teaching one of his men a blocking technique. “Elf,” Ash called, getting Fenris's immediate attention.

“Yes?”

“If you're going, prepare yourself. We leave soon.”

Dark brows rose up in surprise, but the elf took off toward the tiny market set up by the stables.   
  
Bull paused in his teachings, locked his jaw, and dismissed the mercenary. Ash waited as the Qunari sauntered over, that single eye staring at him. “She didn't change her mind?” he asked when he drew close enough.

“No.”

“I see. Dorian thought...maybe...but.”

Ash had thought a lot about Hawke and her motivations last night while she slept on in his arms. He'd considered every reason she'd ever given for things he could remember, and despite all the different situations, much of the reasons came back to one influence: she was homeless. She wanted a home, a permanent place, and she'd tried to make Kirkwall into that when she gained her family's status back. But the collapse of the Circle, the tearing of the city, had made it almost impossible even after he'd removed himself. Hawke wanted a home, and she wanted it safe and ready for their son. For Ash himself. To share her home and comfort with him. That was why she couldn't stay in Skyhold, not even for the dwarf.

He shifted his stance as he looked out over the bustling yard. “She will be fine. She needs her home.”

“Ah.” Bull twitched his jaw and tilted his huge horns. “For what it's worth,...I'm glad I got to know you.”

Ash grunted. “Perhaps it is most appropriate that I share understanding with another who has lost the Qun.”

“Good point.”

“Protect your leader. He's a good elf in danger from many sources.”

Bull swallowed, watching the people skittering from place to place. “I will.”

Ash bowed his head a little and took the forearm Bull extended, clasping it with his own. “Go with the hold.”

“Good luck to you and Hawke...and your family.” Bull smiled, let go of him, and tossed his head back. “Oh, and take this. I thought you might be sneaking out today.”

Ash frowned, but accepted the two small leather wrapped items the other Qunari had pulled from his pockets. Bull pointed at the pouch-like one first. “That's antidotes and how to make 'em. The other...a gift for, you know. Becoming a father. Something humans do in celebration.”

One heavy brow raised as Ash fiddled with the leather and sniffed, pulling out a bottle of the Seheron Whiskey, a smaller one of the wine Hawke had loved, and a few small vials of Par Vollen skin oils. Ash smirked, situated the items, and bowed his head. “Thank you, Iron Bull. _Panahedan._ ”

“Was good to see another one of my people, even without Qun. You're a hell of a soldier and a leader and always will be. _Panahedan._ ”

Ash grunted acceptance, turned, and walked away, for once feeling slightly bothered at leaving someone that wasn't Hawke behind.   
  
He caught up with the elf as he finished resupplying himself and picked his own mount under the Inquisitor's blessing. Together they walked back into the hold to pick up the pack items and get them on the horses.   
  
Hawke, dressed in her armor, was inside with Varric, chatting a little before they had to go.

The moment the pair entered, the dwarf smiled a bit sadly. “Hey. Guess I'm saying bye to lots of people.”

Fenris shrugged. “Sorry, Varric.”

“It's fine. You'll help keep them safe. That's what matters.”

Ash easily lifted the packs from Hawke as she struggled with one of the heavier rolls. He glared at her a second, then froze, wondering if she'd snap at him again in hormones the moment was no doubt engaging. But, to his relief, she stuck her tongue out and smiled at him. Ash gave her a half-smile and spun when Varric yanked some pouch out of his coat. “Here, damn you. Take the rest. Shows how much I fucking love you. It's gonna take _weeks_ for my next batch to get here with the traders.”

Hawke's eyes moistened as she took the parcel and wrapped her arms around the dwarf's neck, bending to her knees to do so. “Thank you, my dearest friend.”

“You're welcome, sweetheart. Just...please, Maker, don't die out there. I won't forgive you or myself.”

“I'll do my best.”

“And, uh...letters. I want progress updates on this nephew of mine. Shit gets over with here, I'll be back and helping with him when I can. Get him a trust fund set up in my name with the Guild. You guys'll be covered.”

Hawke kissed the dwarf's cheek, nuzzling her nose there. Ash stifled the instinctual growl, knowing it was purely platonic. “I love you, Varric. Take care, okay?”

“Love you, too. Yeah, I will. I've got...some people here to play cards with, and Bianca's been itchy for shooting some Red Templars, so.”

“Good.”

Hawke slowly let go of the dwarf, smiling with tears in her eyes as Varric dug in his pocket and handed her a silver key. “That's to your place. I kept it. Aveline's had orders to keep it safe for you. Just...go home. I promise it's getting better, and when this is done, _I_ will fix it. Kirkwall is our home, and it's gonna be prospering and safe when I'm done. Your kid'll have a great city to call home.”

“I believe you, Varric. We'll consider it,” Hawke replied, eyes trailing up to see Ash staring at the key in thought. He _hated_ Kirkwall. He hated everything the city was and represented. _But_. She had a home, a large house already there for them if they wanted it. Protection with her actions and the connections she had. Compared to the travel they were about to under go...it was tempting.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, flicking his gaze over her and seeing her smile.

“Fenris, be good. Kill some Vints for us when you can and write me.”

“Of course, dwarf.”

Varric then turned and looked right up at Ash. “Look, I know...you and I...we've gone through a lot here. I didn't trust you at all to begin with, not with Hawke, not after...lots of things. But that changed. I know you love her, and I know you'll die for her if you have to. I just hope you don't. You're...a good guy, for an ex-ruling Qunari who wanted to kill us, anyway.”

“Varric,” Hawke teased, laughing behind her fingers.

Ash snickered and bent to a knee, gaze firmly on the dwarf who backed up a step and instinctively brought a hand to his chest. “I will not punch you, dwarf.”

“Sure...sure.”

With a snort of laughter, Ash lowered his brow and bumped Varric's head, rubbing once. “You are good to Hawke.”

Varric blinked in astonishment as Ash stood back up with the items in his arms. Quickly he looked to Hawke. “Did...was that... _affection_ or did I just get knocked out?”

“That's affection for Qunari.”

“Wow. Neat,” Varric grinned and wiped his eyes. “I'm...gonna go bug Bull for a little while before I sit down with some merchant letters. Write me. Be safe.”

Fenris grabbed the dwarf as he made to leave and quickly hugged him once, shocking the dwarf nearly as much as Ash had before Varric smiled and left the room.   
  
They took everything they'd had and followed suit, stalking out into the hall as a tight group. Solas suddenly appeared before them, eyed the belongings they held, and bowed his head. “Leaving. I'm glad I caught you. There's been a...small request.”

“Pardon?” Hawke asked in confusion and followed the elf, the rest behind her.

Solas paused in the main hall, smiling gently as Lumia neared and shyly looked to Hawke with affection. “She wishes to go with you and serve, if you'll have her. Lumia finds you appreciate her far more than others have here.”

Ash studied both elves with suspicion, almost certain there was another motive, but his brain racked back over each instance with Solas and found only help had been given to them...nothing dark, nothing untoward, even if the elf always looked a bit saddened for some reason. Still, his gut said something was going on, _good_ or not.  
  
Hawke took a step forward and patted the female elf's shoulder. “Dear, we're going to be traveling quite hard and...are not entirely certain as to where we're settling. However, it is possible I will return home and...well, I let my servants go as they wished before I left to begin with. I would love to employ you, but I don't want to lie about the journey's dangers.”

Lumia bowed her head and smiled. “It's okay, Mistress Hawke. I would be more comfortable with you. The...human servants here, despite our Inquisitor being elf, tend to make things...difficult for me.”

“And a nobility guest once tried to force her in his bed as duty,” Solas almost snarled under his breath, eyes on Hawke. “Please. Let her find new life with you. Consider it _my_ request for help I've given.”

Hawke's gaze tightened. “That incident better have been before I was here at any point, or I shall kill me a noble.”

“See, _that_ is precisely why she prefers you as a mistress,” Solas explained with a small smile. “She's already packed her things if you wish to take her along.”

Ash tilted his head. “Why are you the one to speak of this?”

Solas paused, gathered himself in some strange way, and looked upward to him. “I look out for my people. I see that they are safe. Protected from exploitation of any others, human, _elvhen,_ Qunari...any. So long as you don't try to force conversion of the Qun, I think it satisfactory. I...trust that you'll be kind and respectful of her own autonomy.”

“He's without Qun, so no worries,” Hawke replied and hugged the female elf to her. “Grab your things, dear, and Solas, do tell the Inquisitor that I paid for our supplies, save the mounts and my servant I decided to give a job with me.”

“Consider it done. Thank you, Hawke. It is greatly appreciated to see Lumia safer, happier.” Solas bowed his head and gestured politely.

“Mistress, I will get my things and meet you by the stables,” Lumia softly spoke, departing once Hawke nodded.

They walked out of Skyhold, Ash, Hawke and the tattooed elf Fenris, and in that moment Ash felt something significant change as they stepped toward the stables. Something about the decision was extremely important and consequential, and Ash hoped such future tidings connected to it were made in their favor with history.

 


	29. Brooding Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

 

 

They settled into a travel routine that blended the way she camped with Ash and the ways her companions used to settle down in between jobs—taking turns setting up canvas tents, preparing food, all of it.

They would ride the horses for a while, then stop to let Hawke blush and pee. Lumia would merely smile knowingly as Hawke grew more and more uncomfortable in the saddle before quietly asking, “Would you care to stop, Mistress?”

The phrase inevitably always led to Ash looking over at Hawke, his eyes reading her annoyance and discomfort, then nodding and safely pulling the horses off the path. He and Fenris would keep watch, backs to her as she walked a little ways and squatted. The first few times were fine, but as they got into more rocky territory and out of declining hills of snow, Hawke began to require Lumia's help to steady her, always profusely apologizing to the elf for such a need. Lumia would only bow her head and tell her that the apology wasn't necessary.

Actually camping grew to be...interesting.

At first there was a stand off between Ash and Fenris as the tents went up, the fire was made, and the night drew in. Both seemed ready to stand watch while the females slept, but Hawke quickly pointed out over their masculine competition that one of them would need a different watch and would sleep for maximum safety.

With his usual grunt of annoyed acceptance, Ash let Fenris take the first watch while he slept by Hawke; each night they slept she realized how stressed the Qunari was—how much burden he was carrying. His eyes were constantly alert on the path, weapons never hidden or out of reach on his back. And when his gaze wasn't keeping watch, it was on her. He continually checked her needs, made sure she had a small pack of rations on her horse at all times and a wine skin of water. If she hadn't already loved the man, this would have done the job, and thus when he did get to sleep lately, he crashed hard, completely out.

They stopped after a handful of days in south of Ferelden, past Orzimmar's entrance. The route would take them past Lothering, but at Hawke's quiet request all agreed to loop around the devastated town. From there it would be as before when she'd traveled with him on their small mission, well mostly: under Crestwood, above the Hinterlands, and arching near the Storm Coast to get safely into Denerim. They could always stop for items at any Inquisition post if necessary while traveling.

Hawke ate fish Ash had caught from the nearby river. Watching him do it had been an absolute pleasure and show of his deadly control and skill. He stood absolutely still, barefoot in the water waiting for several minutes, and then out of nowhere, it seemed to Hawke, would make a snap movement and come up with a wriggling fish in hand. Fenris smirked with approval, wishing they'd had the quick Qunari for their own past traveling.

Lumia had offered to prepare the fish in a way she'd been taught while serving her past noble in Orlais. They smelled absolutely delicious by the time the elf was done, and even Ash had looked appreciative while eating his share. Hawke had smiled to herself while Fenris cheekily sneaked glances at the pretty elf and ate his portion.

That night Hawke was restless. She had been somewhat for several nights, but her embarrassment had thus far kept her a bit level. That night was different—she was too wound. Fenris was on first watch, Lumia sleeping in the elves' shared tent on her own bed roll.

Ash lay cocooned around Hawke, deep steady breaths playing with the hair at her neck. Before they only had each other, so...if any _mood_ struck either one of them...it didn't matter. Hawke now lay, almost desperate, unable to get past the wanting that wouldn't let her sleep. After trying to forcibly sleep through it and failing, she rubbed back against Ash's body. He sniffed as he lightly stirred, and her excited hormones demanded more.

With teeth biting her lip, she slid his hand from her rounding belly down between her legs and panted under her breath.

She felt the instant he woke, not a second after. It was like the air itself sharpened, heightened.

A moment passed as he gathered his bearings in his waking state, and then carefully his long fingers cupped her, thumb stroking her intimately. Hawke inhaled sharply, trying to be absolutely quiet as he touched her, felt how wet she was and how much she wanted. Ash nuzzled the back of her head gently, and whispered lowly in her ear, “ _Kadan_. Do not hold back for them. Get release.”

“No,” she replied, embarrassed.

Hawke tried to control her tight breathing as his fingers slipped inside of her, thrusting easily. Teeth gnawed her lip, fingers tightened over his free hand and his muscular thigh. The tiniest of whimpers escaped her as she got closer, so close. Then his fingers left her, hand and knee spreading her legs apart, and he swiftly thrust himself in from behind. She hissed under her breath, eyes closing happily as if his presence inside had released some kind of pressure she'd had. He thrust with precise, steady movements on his side, his low breathing in her ear the only sounds he made.

It didn't take long for her to fly apart; she quickly jerked her left hand off his thigh and brought it to her mouth, biting it to keep quiet as she felt the pleasured scream climb and halt in her throat. All that she voiced was a slight grunt, but it was definitely one in a mewling tone. Ash rode her out as she quickly built again before she dug her teeth in harder at her surprise second orgasm; he gripped her tightly as he shook through his own, breathing heavy and controlled to stay quiet with her.

In utter relief she removed her knuckles from her mouth and sighed softly. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling like she could breathe again.

“You are welcome,” he whispered back, lips on her throat. With an almost silent chuckle, he rolled to his back, popping out of her as his erection lessened. Hawke nestled against his chest, arm around his big middle, feeling _much_ better.

Of course she felt the urge to pee not minutes later and sat up with an annoyed groan. Ash had started drifting off again, but woke once more, hissing his question as she sat up and slid on her loose under clothing. Upon realizing what her problem was the Qunari snickered and helped her off her knees to her feet, watching as she not so quietly shambled out of the tent. Fenris spun, saw her move for the bushes, and turned back around.

It was rather awkward. The stream of urine sounded extremely loud in her ears, but Hawke reflected back to their old traveling days and shrugged off the embarrassment. It hadn't bothered them after many nights spent moving around then; she supposed it was the fact that she hadn't seen him in a while, been around others as much as Ash. When she finished she tried to clean herself and grumbled, walking out past Fenris to the river nearby and used the water in the dark to get the last of Ash's ejaculate off of her inner thigh.

Hawke rose up, gave Fenris a little awkward wave, and moved to go back to her tent.

“Hawke,” he softly called.

She paused, a foot raised. “Yes?”

“If you... _need_ some personal space, just say so,” he grumbled out, back to her as he watched the area around them.

Hawke raised a brow. “Doesn't happen easily when traveling. You know that.”

“I meant...you know. _You two_.” Fenris momentarily turned in his spot, looked over her in the small firelight, and smirked. “You look relaxed. Finally. Thought you were gonna blow after the last several days.”

Completely red to her hair line, Hawke beamed an embarrassed grin at him and almost ran for the tent. Fenris chuckled in the dark behind her while she slid inside the flap and greeted a seated Ash who frowned. “What?”

“I...oh nothing. Jokes at my expense, nothing new. Your watch coming?”

“Yes, _kadan_. Rest. You haven't yet.”

“I can now. Thanks...again. Maker that's awkward to...say, isn't it.”

Ash grinned at her, gorgeous as hell, his brow pressing to hers as he finished lacing his trousers. “I take care of my female,” he rumbled, his grin smugly widening as she buried her hot face in the furs.

 

 

 

[-------------------------------]

 

 

It had taken him a while to personally admit he was...actually okay with the relationship in front of him. Over the few weeks of slowed travel, thanks to Hawke's timely bladder and a few very necessary skirted moments of avoided battle with bandits and Venatori on the main path, Fenris had gotten a very good, very personal look at Hawke and the Arishok.

When she'd first told him in Skyhold, he'd been furious. Absolutely furious.

She'd never have made up such a thing, but how could it sound remotely real? The Arishok in love with her?

He'd never shown any interest in her before that Fenris could recall, just...respect.

And several times as Fenris rode his gray Orlesian horse, his eyes wandering to the giant keeping behind and to the left of Hawke on the black warhorse, he began rethinking his memories. There had to be some clue he'd missed, right? The first thing he'd thought of was the first time they'd entered the compound; the Arisok was frightening at his most presentable then, and even Hawke had swallowed down some nerves to speak with the huge Qunari and his men. Fenris had spoken on her behalf at first, trying to soothe tempers and show respect to the Qun, effectively semi-pleasing Ash right away.

But the Arishok's eyes hadn't been on him but a brief second, nor on the others with them that he'd already measured in the moments it had taken for them to approach his dais. No. His eyes had been firmly on Hawke, assessing her, looking for weakness and corruption and finding surprise instead. Hawke had taken different people with her for meetings with the Arishok after that, so Fenris saw him maybe twice more, but again Ash had only looked at her, trusting her to speak honestly and with intent. Not to waste his time. And when he had felt like she'd done so, he'd dismissed them all with a wave and a grunt...but the weird gold eyes had watched Hawke leave.

Always.

Why?

What had he been looking for after his initial assessment?

Fenris _knew_ Camilla Hawke was an attractive woman with her long, toned legs, nice bosom and beautifully oval face. Her golden hair, warm brown eyes and ready brilliant smile had only completed the physical package.

But her heart? Her mind? Loyal, intelligent, observant, crazy fun and hilarious. Gentle, when she needed to be, like with Orana and her sister. Maker knew he'd fought his own feelings for her and _still_ hated himself for reacting to the unexpected rush of memories when they'd kissed. Fenris had never forgotten that kiss, but Hawke had never forgotten one she'd apparently shared with the Arishok himself.

Yeah, he'd heard more about _that_ gem after they'd been riding a couple of days and she'd made some joke that Ash's expression during a conversation they'd had mirrored how he'd been then—surprised, intrigued, then ready to control.

So what had let her think she could attempt such a thing? What had let the Arishok _kiss back_?

Fenris had missed too much, stuck in his thoughts of Denarius and, later, his sister. He knew Ash had to have at least been drawn to her respect of his culture and ways despite their obvious differences. He'd have appreciated her blunt honesty each time she came to report casualties of Qunari he'd brought and lost to Mother Petrice's antics. And, well. Hawke had acquired a reputation by that point for her skill, her desire to make things better. In some ways, when boiled down, the two very different people shared many similarities, Fenris realized. Both were extremely stubborn, going with their instincts and often tuning others out, and each had been chosen to lead during difficult times, sharing experiences that came with it. There was pressure only they could understand.

It shocked him to hear the Qunari laugh, see him _smile_ at Hawke when she'd say something that Fenris would have expected to make her headless. But no, Ash would stare her down, then break into a tiny smirk or often an amused grunt, sometimes even a full rare _grin_ , before tossing something right back and annoying her in return.

Hawke had effectively figured out how to work him, how to handle him and read his tight expressions and frustrated sounds more than probably any one else in the Qunari's entire life. Perhaps it wasn't a wonder, then.

The pregnancy freaked Fenris out a bit.

Each time they stopped and he saw Ash unhorse to lift her gently from the saddle and down to her feet, it hit him: His friend, his past desired woman, was pregnant with another man's child...and that man could easily break him in half with a punch, as Varric had almost learned by accident.

Hawke had kept to loose clothing or her armor that had been let out a little for her swelling breasts at first, but the baby was now beginning to show beyond a question of her having had a very big dinner. Like...a little bowl pushing out against her belly and rounding it. Strange as it was, she looked _stunning_ in her pregnant state. He hadn't lied to her—she _glowed_ somehow, happy or strong or just regardless. She was beautiful, and judging by how often Ash's eyes were on her, the Qunari was fully aware of the effect. Fenris had never imagined her to be one to want to have children, but now that he'd seen her swelling with a baby, it was as if there had never been doubt. Not with her small smiles as she patted the growing bump after dinner or when she had to quickly use the bathroom.

As terrified as Fenris was for her, he took in each instance of Ash tending to her—hunting, feeding, gathering things, helping her get on her mount, or even carrying her to bed sometimes—with reassurance. Hawke wasn't alone in it, which had been his first concern, knowing her stubbornness. And Ash often had a hand right on her belly, protectively resting as they lounged by the fire or he held her still a moment when her balance, which had been previously superb in her roguish attacks and now had started to waver, became offset in her concern.

Of course the Qunari had attended to her _other_ needs recently, thank Andraste. Hawke's mood had gotten so sour and stiff until that night she'd come out of their tent after some muffled moving sounds, her face relaxed.

He was also grateful for the elven servant coming with them. Ash kept his reservations about it; though he never was untoward or unappreciative of Lumia's help, Fenris could sense the giant waiting and watching for something to happen. Fenris himself didn't know the elven mage who'd sent her with them, but Hawke seemed to trust him based on his past helping her, and she rather liked Lumia, herself. Fenris had to admit the elf was...quiet, but sweet, always tending to Hawke with concern and a smile, but still very intelligent and self-assured in her activities. Hawke never once treated her like a pet or minimized her worth in any way; she mostly treated the woman like a friend.

So, as they grew closer and closer to Denerim, Fenris struggled some.

He was happy for Hawke, but not wanting to leave her again. He was ready to hunt Tevinters, but knew he'd feel lonely. And he _really_ wanted her to go back to Kirkwall where she'd be safer than living in some rotten shack in Denerim to hide. Besides, Varric had been right—Ash was going to stand out like a glorious silver statue in Denerim, but in Kirkwall? Qunari mercs without the Qun had kept to Lowtown for employment in a small group ever since the Arishok had taken forces from the city. Ash could blend. So long as no one recognized him by his horns, Ash would be fine. He wore different armor, no red _vitaar_ paint, and not nearly the amount of decoration in gold he'd once had. They could be safer with Aveline around.

Fenris debated how to broach the subject during their last night before going into the capital. He waited until dinner was nearly done, Lumia cleaning their tin plates with some water from the spare skins before retiring to her bed roll in their shared tent. Hawke took the moment to pop one of Varric's candies in her mouth and savored it, eyes closing, while Ash walked behind her, clawed fingers gracefully brushing her hair as he bent to grab something from his pack.

Fenris scooted closer around the fire and eyed her until she looked at him. Hawke sat, legs crossed and swelling belly in her palms. “What is it, Fenris? You've been itchy for a few days.”

“Will you take up Varric's idea?” he asked quietly, poking at the fire with a stick to stir it. “Go back to Kirkwall?”

“I...possibly.” Hawke glanced over her shoulder as Ash took a swig from some flask that smelled of very strong whiskey before he replaced it in his belongings. “You can imagine Ash isn't thrilled with the idea. He hates Kirkwall.”

Fenris raised his brows, tilting his face a bit. “I...can't say I blame him, not after everything that happened.”

“Exactly. That's why I don't want to...pressure him.”

“Right, but...think about it. He could blend there, Hawke. Even find some new sort of purpose; you know how much roles mean to him. Let him do stuff to keep you safe.” Fenris bent one knee, wincing as the joint popped a little. “You already have a home for...for the child, and no Qunari but the mercs are even allowed near the city anymore as some unwritten rule. The only spies you'd have to worry about would be human or elven, and neither would have access to your house—most would be in Lowtown. Aveline's had tight guard rotations around properties in Hightown to help bring in order after everything went crazy, and the patrols in Lowtown are bigger now, too.”

“Can you imagine what she'll say? Fenris, she might...refuse us.”

Fenris scowled. “Then I'll kill her and replace her with someone else. Simple.”

“Fenris, darling, even _you_ know that there isn't someone else who can do Aveline's job.”

“Damn it,” he grumbled to himself.

Ash suddenly bent to his knees next to Hawke and bumped his huge brow to hers with gentleness. “Bed, _kadan_?”

“Think I'll stay up a bit, actually. Feel like talking. But I won't be much longer, I promise.”

The gray giant twisted his mouth as he considered her promise, then grunted an acceptance. Fenris watched him close his golden eyes and press his lips to Hawke's with slight possession and seduction. “Good. You are irritating when you don't rest and wake early.”

“Arse,” she teased and lightly bonked her head to his.

Fenris smirked, watching as Ash shrugged his massive shoulders and thumped her lightly back. “Little arse.”

“Now who's being immature?”

“Merely speaking in a way you'll appreciate, Hawke.” Ash leaned back quickly, dodging the expected playful smack with experience. “Bed, soon.”

“I will.”

Ash pushed himself up to stand, black eyes with the darker whites and large golden rings around the irises staring Fenris down a moment. Despite not saying words, Fenris somehow _knew_ the Qunari was saying, “I'm trusting you to protect her and not touch her.” So he lightly bowed his head, getting a nod in return. Ash murmured a good night to him, surprising Fenris into saying the same thing.

“Maker, I love the man, but he's so protective.” Hawke smiled to herself, eyes on the fire.

“Can't say I blame him. He's got...a lot to lose that's precious now.”

Hawke sighed, nodding in the firelight. “Yeah. Poor fellow. We _were_ attacked, and he's undergone a lot of change.”

“So let him reclaim Kirkwall for himself. Let him find his own peace with it; obviously he never has if the name of the place sets him on edge.” Fenris held his hands up as Hawke raised a brow. “Just saying, Hawke. It might do him good to feel in control while there, take away some of the fear and hate. We both know there are good things to the city, and we both know he never saw them in the compound. That isn't to say everything he _did_ see was false.”

“It was in a bad time,” Hawke murmured in agreement. “Fenris, I'd love to have my home back. My bed. My...my poor dog who's been stuck with Uncle Gamlen this whole time. I was too afraid to bring her and risk her with this red lyrium crap.”

“I'm sure she's missed you, as have Aveline, Merrill and several patrons at the Hanged Man.”

“Missed my money, you mean.”

“Certainly. You're terrible at Wicked Grace when you're really drinking,” Fenris teased, feeling better. “Strange as it sounds...I wish I could go back to those moments.”

“I understand,” she quietly replied. Hesitantly she looked to the tent she shared with the quiet Qunari inside of it, then leaned closer to Fenris. “Have you word on Isabela?”

Oh. Yes. That was someone the Qunari _would_ kill on sight, if only for pleasure. Fenris winced. “A bit. She's helped with the ship by interrupting slavers and looting them, freeing the people. Hasn't been...too awful. For her, I mean. But it's possible if she hears you're in town that she might visit, you know. Who is to say? She's at sea most of the time.”

“Yes. Well. She'd...best not come unannounced if we stay there. He loves me, but has admitted if she came 'round that it would be...tempting for him.”

“I'd imagine. She caused him years of pain and seclusion, temporary exile and then torture _and_ exile.”

“Did you know he'd been let go?”

“No. But I'd heard he was being held. Qunari aren't...generous with prisoners,” Fenris sighed and looked to the tent himself. “If anything makes me respect him besides his way with you, it's that—living through that without breaking and going insane.”

“I...think the reason he didn't was partially his own very strong body and will, but....”

Fenris smiled at her. “You.”

“Yeah. He said I gave him purpose after it all.” Hawke suddenly clenched her eyes shut, fingers fisting at her hips. “Fenris, he tried to kill himself at first.”

He immediately understood why. Everything the Arishok had known, touched, belonged to was gone. He'd have been considered soulless without Qun and weapons, a fate worse than death. Suicide to a Qunari in that position was not weakness, but reclaiming honor. “But he didn't.”

“No...he tried, but thought of me. So that gave him a reason to track me down, to let me know he'd been exiled and that he might still want death.” Hawke sniffed and crossed her arms. “Of course I didn't let him.”

“Of course.”

“I...reminded him of his power. His strength. And that I refused to let him lose that after everything he'd survived. Not when I loved him.”

Fenris reached over and patted her shoulder. “You're a good one, Hawke. Irritating at times, as he said, but good.”

“Don't even start, elf.”

“What?” Fenris broke out in a grin. “I'm not wrong. And this pregnancy is only gonna make you even moodier. I give him credit for sticking.”

Hawke's face dropped, eyes wetting. “Am I...that terrible?”

Instantly Fenris felt his heart drop. “No, no, I'm teasing Hawke.”

Then, to his complete annoyance, she blinked her eyes and grinned. “Got you, Broody.”

“You twat,” he hissed and sneered at her.

“Ah. That was good. Help me up? I need to...you know. Then bed.” Fenris snickered at her, but obeyed, rising and helping her stand up easily, waiting until she balanced. Hawke stared down at her belly. “I'm not even huge enough to have this problem yet. It isn't fair. I'm not myself.”

“Hawke, it's a half-Qunari baby. Don't worry about it.” Fenris let go of her as she mumbled under her breath. “Hey. For what it's worth? I think you'll be...great.”

The smile she gave him was like a small sunset in its beauty. “Thanks, Fenris. I sure fucking hope so.”

“Ah, yes, there's that mouth. Best change that habit before it spreads.”

She stuck her tongue out and winked, moving toward the nearby bushes. Fenris watched her a moment to be sure she didn't fall from tripping, then returned to sitting as he had, staring at the fire. A little half-smile lifted his lip.

He was going to miss her.

 

 


	30. Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good day in Denerim usually ends with a merchant deal and some whiskey.  
> A bad one might end up with Alistair himself banging on your door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE Alistair. Goddamn hilarious.  
> Also references to my Cousland and Morrigan, a one shot of them at Skyhold is in the Disgruntled Falling collection, FYI. 
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

Her memory served well, and Hawke quickly navigated them through Denerim using side streets to avoid the busy market. Near the magic shop was a small shack, one of many like it, and thankfully on the more quiet middle away from the nearby tavern. Hawke knocked on the door in three repetitions of two, the signal Bethany and she had created.

Despite the early hour, movement was easily heard inside as Bethany rushed to the door.  
  
“Sister?” she hissed through the wood separating them.

“It's me, Bethany,” Hawke whispered back excitedly. “I've got friends with me. Sorry to burden.”

The door instantly ripped open and her sister stood, a huge teary eyed grin on her face. Her dark hair, that of their father's, curled around her face while her brown eyes looked over Hawke's expression with relief and happiness.

“Sister!” Bethany gasped and quickly stepped back, nearly tripping over her mage robes. “Please, come in! I apologize, it's not too big in here, but I keep it _much_ tidier than that hole of Gamlen's we shared.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Hawke laughed and coughed a little, looking back to him. Ash had been warned her sister would probably panic at seeing him and attack, so she wanted to deal with it first. “Bethany, one of my companions...just promise me you won't do anything stupid. No magic.”

The other woman leaned her face out of the door way and saw him towering over the others, head raised as he stared her down. Her eyes rounded, and she tilted her face. “And, pray tell, why should I not be...worried? That's...wait, is that... _Sister!_ ”

Hawke grasped her sister's shoulders and lightly shook the woman to get her attention. Ash hadn't remembered the other woman present for their fight, but he didn't doubt that she'd heard all about it. “Bethany, things are different. There's much to discuss. He isn't that role anymore. And you need to sit down for the rest.”

“I....”

“May we all enter?” Hawke asked softly. “I will not enter without them.”

Bethany took a breath, but nodded and moved out of the doorway for them. Hawke went inside, and Lumia followed with Fenris entering after that as he looked around a little.

Hawke had told Ash she personally knew the layout of the small home from helping Bethany get a position and rental through the Tranquil who ran the mage shop. Yet again her memory was perfect as he took it in: One large entry room had her tiny kitchen and fireplace, a small sitting area Hawke and Bethany had arranged themselves out of large cushions and a very low table they'd snagged before it was destroyed as junk. The other room was the bedroom, and again they'd gotten lucky supplying Bethany for it at the time. There was a small back door that led to a few feet of grass and city wall, and the little outhouse sat there.

“Maker, how'd you even get him _in_ the city? With the attacks in Thedas, the guards have been suspicious.”

“A white lie. I said he was my hired mercenary guard. When they first gave me crap, I told them they were delaying King Alistair himself by refusing me entrance with my group.”

Ash watched her sister flit about, grabbing cups and making tea with excitement.

Hawke resumed with a small apologetic smile aimed his way, and he knew why. He'd been rather annoyed by how they'd gotten him into the city, but it had been the only way Hawke could safely think of. Obviously they couldn't hide his large self or his horns. So Hawke had told the guard he was a Qunari deserter she'd hired as a mercenary and guard for her journeys lately. After some tense moments during which Fenris himself piped up some cockamamie story about them meeting Ash in a pub and hiring him, the city guard finally allowed them in with a warning for them to behave themselves and Hawke to watch her guard.

She'd apologized as soon as they were out of earshot of the city guard, and Ash hadn't replied, just kept a fierce defensive look as they moved through the city he'd never seen before; the only account of it he knew personally came from notes of the Sten who'd been here during the Blight. Though he'd understood their need for deception, the word deserter bothered him as did the notion that he wasn't her _male_ in any sense with the lie.

At least she'd gone with the clothes Ash had purchased in Skyhold; it was a kind of loose winter robe with leggings and long sleeves. Poncho like, in a way, and was a soft light blue. It hung just enough to make the bump of her belly harder to notice. And...well, it reminded him of clothing from Par Vollen—the richer material, the coloring, the way it draped over her and the sleeves had small designs cut into them to bare a bit of her skin. It was tighter underneath the second layer, revealing her belly as the top crisscrossed and covered her breasts. Seeing her put the outfit on that morning had almost set him off, and he'd had to leave the tent with some excuse before he took her to the furs and ripped it from her body.

Bethany giggled as she heated the kettle over her fire and prepared five cups for tea. She turned, reaching for some bread and fruits she'd stored, saying, “Dear sister I am so glad to see you. I've only had one letter from Varric with a note of yours, and he'd told me you'd been very busy. Helping the Inquisition, even.”

“Yeah, well, there's...a lot to catch up on that needed spoken in person,” Hawke began hesitantly. “Like, for instance, um....”

“What?”

Hawke eyed him with uncertainty, but drew upon her strength and moved around the counter. She gently lifted the second layer of the outfit so her belly showed. She awkwardly laughed as her sister nearly dropped the knife she was holding to cut the bread. “This, for starters. Say hi to your nephew.”

“ _My what!_ ” her sister practically screeched as she sat the knife down and spun. Her eyes settled on Hawke's pregnant belly in shock, then absolute worry. “Sister! Please...oh, Maker, tell me you weren't....”

Ash frowned a second, then almost snarled when Hawke quietly whispered, “No, Bethany, I wasn't raped. The baby was...very mutually made.”

“Dear Camilla, there's so much going on! Not that I'm not happy for you; believe me, I am, I'm just...in shock. You never have had patience for children. You said it was mine and Carver's duty to carry on the family,” Bethany softly began, her eyes wet with emotion as she reached forward. Ash subtly shifted his position, instincts wanting to protect Hawke, but he relaxed as her sister merely took Hawke into her arms. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Yes, Bethany. He's fine. He's not a fan of magic, though, at least nothing beyond healing magic. He...was accidentally exposed to the Fade when I fought at Adamant.” Hawke rested her face to her sister's neck briefly before the two women parted. “He negates magic some, but it's dangerous for him to do so inside me. He could drain us both trying. So please be careful near him for now.”

Bethany looked as awed as Ash had felt while she grabbed the whistling kettle. “How do you know?”

“Because I had a mage friend examine me, and the child responded with a small barrier.”

“Maker! Another mage in the family?”

“More like a Templar without lyrium,” Hawke explained. “We think a spirit in the Fade blessed him to protect him inside me then. I...hadn't been aware I was pregnant at the time, and of course hadn't banked on falling into a Fade rift.”

Bethany quickly poured their tea, sighing. “You poor dear. You must have been so angry at yourself. I know you, Camilla.”

“I was...very angry,” Hawke whispered, eyes closing. Ash tilted his head, catching her attention. She smiled weakly at him. “But I wasn't alone.”

Bethany blinked rapidly as she tried to surmise the situation. With an instant turn to her right, she whirled on Fenris. “Well, you had _best_ be wedding my sister if you've given her a baby, you _elf!_ ”

Ash almost immediately curled his claws into his palms with anger. Why would the woman believe the child to belong to the elf?

Hawke blushed and looked away while her friend struggled. “Excuse me?” Fenris asked, eyes flicking between Bethany to Hawke and Ash.

“You heard me! You tag after Camilla for years, and now without the rest to _watch_ , you...you! You had better love her with all your being, Fenris.” Bethany jerked forward toward him and poked his chest despite the spiky armor. “Promise me you'll take care of her. Get her back home for the baby.”

“Bethany, I don't think you know what you're talking about,” Fenris said, completely uncomfortable and using his eyes while he begged Hawke to explain.

Bethany removed her finger and sighed slightly wistfully as she turned back to Hawke. “Well, at least it'll be a beautiful little nephew. Little pointed ears and all!”

Hawke winced as she slowly drug her gaze up to Ash and found him fuming. He was fucking _furious_ as he stared the elf down. What was her sister referring to? Fenris had been one of her companions, yes, but Ash had never heard reports of the elf being anything more than that. Yet now the elf looked absolutely nervous about something, and Ash had an idea it wasn't just concern over the insult the sister was unknowingly making.

Ash narrowed his eyes and curled his lip as Fenris stared up at him. “You, outside. Now.”

“What's going on?” Bethany asked in complete confusion.

“Maker, no,” Hawke rubbed her face. “Let's just calm down.”

“No. _Now._ ” Ash stepped back, the female elf darting out of his way with her wide eyes. Hawke was biting her lip as she watched him. Ash swung the door open, sneering as the male elf sighed and walked outside with a very stiff posture. The door shut behind them, and Ash instantly grabbed Fenris by the throat and slammed him against the shack's wall. “You have one chance to _explain_ to me why someone would think _my child_ to be _yours_ , elf.”

“No one...knew...Hawke had feelings for you—she kept...it...secret. You....you left the city. They know nothing about...about what happened after,” Fenris gasped, struggling with his control as his lyrium marks started glowing.

Ash remembered the dwarf's description of the elf's abilities because of them, but he wasn't concerned; the elf wouldn't dare harm him while Hawke loved him. “Why _yours,_ then?”

Fenris gripped at the clawed hand around his thin throat, gasping. Large dark green eyes closed tightly. “B-Because.... I once...wanted Hawke.”

“And do you _still_ , little elf?” Ash growled, bringing his face close. “Have you spent the last days wanting _my kadan_?”

“N-No. She...s-she told me about...both of you at S-Skyhold.” Fenris tried to take in more breaths. “I cannot...explain...while....”

Ash grunted and dropped the elf, watching with satisfaction as the male fell to the ground on his arse. One hand reached back for his sword, the move obvious to Fenris intentionally. “Now speak,” Ash demanded.

“Look, it was years ago. I was caught up in my own problems, and after you left the city, Hawke got...I don't know. Quieter. Reserved. I started realizing what I'd been missing out on and tried to...get her attention. It wasn't easy.” Fenris rubbed his throat as he swallowed roughly. “I...kissed her once, but she touched my arm, and my markings...they...I had memories previously locked from my grasp flood me. It was painful. I left her there in my shame. She never touched me again, and I never pressed her attention romantically until everything went insane with the Circle. I'd decided to go deal with slavers while she wanted to hide Bethany, but I'd written her a letter...apologizing. Asking if she'd give me another chance. She never saw it. After getting Bethany secure, she went to find Varric and _you_ found her. I never knew that...after we had.... That you'd written her a reply, and she'd gotten it. Pretty much meant I had no other chance, didn't it.”

Ash tried to leash his temper.

He didn't hate Hawke for eventually reaching out to another male; there hadn't been anything declared between them then, and back then the Qun would have said he hadn't had exclusive rights to her anyway. Even in his letter, his last words to her thinking he would die, he told her to go forth in life.

But to hear that she'd been left so empty by his leaving as he had at leaving her...to know that she had eventually been hurt because of the elf's attempts _pissed_ him off.

And this friend of hers, this elf she trusted, had been traveling with them—a male with feelings for his _kadan_.

 _Vashedan_ , if he'd not followed to that hold...she could have rejoined with the elf and never known he'd been alive out there. His son wouldn't have been given existence, his own life new order. She could have bred with the elf.

Ash controlled the shake his anger wanted to roll through his body at the thought.

“Does she know about this...letter of yours?” he forced himself to ask.

Fenris nodded tightly. “Never read it, no, but I spoke about it at Skyhold. She told me she couldn't go with me, then explained you'd come back...and that she had always loved you. With your own devotion, she couldn't walk away. Then I...saw her stomach and...well. I'll admit to being furious at first.”

Ash darkly smirked. “Because it was not _you_ who had gotten so intimate with her?”

“Yes. And concerned that it was someone who'd almost _killed_ her who had.”

With a deep inhale and exhale to not instantly murder the elf for the fair statement, Ash looked him right in the eye. “Do you still want Hawke?”

Fenris blinked a few times, then sighed and looked to his hands. “No. I've seen how happy you make her. I want her happy, even if it's not...me with her. She was always my friend _first_ , and any other feelings I had could never ruin that. Hawke was the first person to truly help me...to see beyond the markings and slavery. I'm happy for her. I want her to be safe and secure with the baby.”

Surprise bubbled up in Ash's chest as he watched the elf explain. It took serious strength to let such an egoistical thing not create an internal war. The elf was strong for it, a true friend to Hawke if he'd willingly shed his own feelings for her benefit.

Ash snorted, realizing he couldn't be angry with Fenris even if he wanted to be now, and that he even had more mild respect for the elf. He stuck a hand down in Fenris's shocked face and grunted. “Come. She is going to be displeased with me.”

“Probably. She'll get past it.” Fenris slowly smiled and took the hand in his face, catching his breath as Ash instantly yanked him to his feet. “So...you're not gonna kill me in my sleep are you?”

“No.” Ash rolled his shoulders and turned back toward the door.

“Why not?”

Ash gave a slightly empty laugh. “Do you _wish_ me to kill you? Because I _can_. Now. I'll rip your head right off, elf, if it will bring silence.”

Fenris coughed. “Um. No. I just don't...a minute ago you were going to strangle me.”

“You proved yourself better than a pathetic male trying to undermine another with a female.” Ash shrugged and grabbed the door handle. “Being loyal to Hawke saved you as did your honesty. Anything less and your life was needless. Any changes to that will forfeit it.”

“Ah. That's good then.”

Inside Hawke was seated near the counter, tea in her hand. Her eyes were closed, face hung down a little. Her sister was rubbing her back next to her, whispering quietly while Lumia slid a small plate of fruits and a cooked egg in front of Hawke. “Eat, Mistress. You will feel better.”

“I'll feel better once I know Ash hasn't left me or killed Fenris,” Hawke murmured and breathed into her tea. “I should have told him.”

Fenris closed the door behind Ash and startled the women into alertness. Naturally it bugged Ash that they hadn't heard _him_ enter, which showed how distracted they were and how easily they could have been in danger were he anyone else.

The elf snickered next to him. “You look like someone died, Hawke.”

Instantly Hawke's face snapped up with relief. She glanced over Fenris, caught the mild bruising at his neck, and whipped her gaze to Ash. He stared her down silently, not apologizing.

Bethany coughed uncomfortably. “There are fruits and rolls if you're hungry,” she said, gesturing behind her.

Fenris exhaled and walked behind the women, picking items for a plate.

But Hawke just kept staring at Ash in mixed apology and anger. She rose up and sat her tea down, then walked purposefully toward him, stopping a few paces between. “You harmed him.”

“Yes,” Ash raised a brow.

“You shouldn't have,” she retorted, glaring.

Fenris looked toward her from behind. “I'm fine, Hawke. It got sorted. Let it be.”

“He needs to understand he can't go killing my _friends_ because he doesn't trust them...or me.” Hawke's chin quivered, and Ash recognized it as a sign.

“Your friend _yet lives_. _That_ indicates trust,” Ash countered, crossing his arms. “Consider what you say before you say it, Hawke.”

She'd made her mistake, but that was his in her state. Hawke lit up like a fire was inside of her. “Oh, I have. Believe me. I could have demanded you apologize to Varric for hitting him, but I didn't because he did something stupid. And I didn't _scream_ at you for almost strangling Fenris. I'm trying to control my temper, Ash. Don't mistake.”

“And why must your temper be excited?” Ash grumbled, eyes narrowed on her angrily. “ _You_ are not the one to discover such information was withheld from you while your _kadan_ camped closely with another who _wanted_ me.”

Hawke threw her hands up. “I've abandoned my duties to raise your son! Is my devotion to you not proven, Ash? Maker's balls, Qunari, you're driving me insane!”

Ash felt his temper flaring up to the point he didn't trust his own words. With a tight glare, he spun, yanked open the door, and left, Hawke's gasp the last thing he heard.

 

 

 

[-----------------------------------]

 

 

 

The moment he'd slammed the door behind him, Hawke felt her heart break.

No one spoke in the small home, but she gasped and felt tears flood her eyes.

Damn it, yes, she should have told him about Fenris's attraction to her that was no longer a conflicting issue. She'd been honestly worried about what might happen if she _had_ spoken of it during their travels; it was likely that Ash might have attacked Fenris at that point. They'd barely known one another and, as they seemed to get along more and more, Hawke had felt even worse about not saying anything. She hadn't wanted to disrupt another bond Ash might be making with her friend, and she knew when he discovered the truth that he was going to have _some_ kind of reaction, understandably so.

Which was why she'd been so scared when her sister had wrongfully teased her about the baby and Fenris. It was completely natural for Bethany to think it was his; they'd been closer right before everything went crazy in Kirkwall, and Bethany had teased her _then_ about how pretty Fenris was.

 _Of course_ Bethany wouldn't have considered _Ash_ the father.

But his reaction had been instant—the fury in his eyes as he demanded Fenris go outside with him scared Hawke. He'd want to know why Bethany specifically said such things, rather than ask who the father might be. And when Hawke had begged him to wait a moment, he'd flat out refused.

She'd sat, absolutely worried, then flinched as the three women heard a very loud bang against the wall and gravelly undertones threatening Fenris. Hawke tried to force herself to go stop it, but inside she felt like it was her punishment. It wasn't that Ash wouldn't understand after his leaving that she might have moved on a little, _but_ the fact that he'd not known something had happened between she and Fenris to give Bethany such reason _did_ piss him off.

Of course when both men had come back inside, she'd felt so much relief that she couldn't handle it.

Ash hadn't killed Fenris. They'd come to some conclusion and left it at that.

But then her eyes had gone right to the elf's throat, noticed the bruised finger marks there, and something about it just set her off. Varric's bruise wasn't intentional, at least to the degree that Ash had barely been aware he'd done it then, and the situation itself was accidental.

But this was meant. This was intended. And she couldn't let him think he had such rights to hurt those she loved over disagreements.

She'd rather willingly argued with him, her temper tuning out a fair amount of his rationality. He'd not been wrong—Fenris walking back inside _did_ mean Ash trusted the elf to have moved past everything and trusted Hawke herself not to be searching behind his back. But she'd been too upset over the bruising to listen for the most part and pushed too hard.

Hawke collapsed into one of the nearby seated cushions and held her face in her hands.

Like that night in Skyhold, she'd just snapped at him. She was right to be worried and a bit angry, but...saying he drove her insane when he _had_ just discovered something unpleasant wasn't right nor was shouting that she abandoned the fight for the child growing in her. If the situation were flipped, as he'd argued, she _would_ have been as furious and probably a lot more distrusting than he was after it.

“Fenris, track him. I need to know if...if he leaves the city with the stallion,” she choked, shoulders shaking.

Deep down she knew Ash wouldn't leave her, not while she was pregnant at least. He was loyal and protective. And he loved her, showed her all the time how he felt. But the insecurity threatened to control her thoughts anyway.

“He's probably just cooling off. Qunari tempers are dangerous sometimes,” Fenris said, but sat his plate down and walked around the counter. “I'll keep an eye out.”

Hawke bit her lip and quietly thanked him, watching her friend leave the house as Bethany sat down next to her. “Sister, dear...are you all right?”

“I was stupid. I shouldn't have said those things,” Hawke glumly said. “The pregnancy is pushing my emotions around.”

“Sure, but...are you all right?”

“No, Bethany. I don't want to give him any more reason to doubt me or...or want to take the baby as soon as it is born and leave.” Hawke blinked away tears. “I know he loves me as I love him, but...after everything he's been through, he can only have so much patience.”

Bethany rubbed her shoulder. “I'm sure he knows you're feeling regrets now.”

“I hope so.”

“Mistress, if I may?”

Hawke looked up as Lumia sat opposite them. “Sure, Lumia.”

The pretty elf smiled softly. “Master Ash will return. The servants at Skyhold were in wonder that he was by your side so much. None of us had ever heard of a Qunari loyal to anything but the Qun itself. Not besides the Iron Bull choosing his company.”

“Thanks, Lumia.” Hawke tried to smile, but sighed instead.

“Camilla, tell me about what's happened. Tell me how you managed to get his devotion.” Bethany grinned and bumped her arm to Hawke's. “He's no lithe elf, _but_ he _is_ stunning. Tall and fit and that hair! So my nephew will have pretty horns instead of pretty ears, though his are a bit pointed differently, too, aren't they. I think his horns are very...regal.”

“Bethany,” Hawke managed to laugh, but began talking.

Much time passed as she opened up, needing to vent among the women. She spoke of meeting Ash again, helping him reshape his identity, finding their bond and strengthening it. Hawke even mentioned the rutting, trying to explain what it was and how it worked normally for the Qunari. Bethany had looked rather concerned about it, but Hawke reminded her that she'd engaged in it willingly for the few days. She talked about Stroud and the Inquisitor, some of the Inquisitor's personal allies. The attack at Adamant was difficult to speak about, especially when she admitted to trying to stay behind in the Fade and why she was now glad Ash had fought her over it.

Her sister listened attentively, asking questions here and there. Lumia brewed them more tea, and later prepared them a light lunch.

Hawke tried not to think about how long Ash had been gone or where he might have gone to—had he entered the tavern to drink away his temper? Had city guards deported him for being without her and wandering on his own?

By late afternoon Hawke was so worried she decided to change into her armor and shook off Bethany's worry for her to wait and not go out.

“Do you really think this will help anything?” Bethany asked. “What if he's just sitting with Fenris having a pint?”

“What if they've been detained by city guards and not allowed word to me?” Hawke replied with a tight look. “I have to find them. Fenris should have at least told me hours ago where Ash was.”

A sudden sharp knock on the door startled them and interrupted Hawke's attempt to change. Hawke brought her daggers out as Bethany moved for her staff. “Lumia, go in the other room in case it's a fight. I don't want you harmed.”

“Yes, Mistress. Please be careful,” Lumia replied and darted into the bedroom to hide.

Another sharp knock, then, “The Champion of Kirkwall must present herself.”

Hawke flicked the door latch and brought her weapons up defensively, Bethany's staff right behind her. Sure enough a few guards were outside, and it terrified her. Her eyes darted around, looking for Ash or Fenris and found neither. Absolutely worried they'd been thrown in prison on something stupid, she bared her teeth. “What do you want? Where are my men?”

“I believe _I_ can answer that question,” a lighter voice drawled from her right.

Hawke's jaw dropped as Alistair himself forced the guards away from him and stepped right up to her. “Your Majesty. Hello. I've...letters for you. I intended to bring them after finding my men.”

Alistair smiled widely, friendly enough as he'd been the last time they'd met. “Not to worry, Champion, they're in the palace. Come with me, and we'll meet them. Once I heard you were in my city with news for me, I decided to personally seek you out. Anora has had the guardsmen...too itchy with regulation and weapons.”

“Why are my men there? Are they imprisoned?” Hawke lowered her daggers, sheathing them as she considered the Ferelden king, who only smiled again.

“Not at all,” he said. “Well, there _might_ have been a scuffle when the guards saw the Qunari approaching the palace, but it was resolved peacefully. I was a trite bit sad, mind you—he wasn't the Qunari I knew from the Blight, and I thought it might have been him.”

Hawke sighed in relief, then pointed for the letters she'd sat out which Bethany handed to her. “Bethany, I'll be back later. Keep Lumia safe.”

“Of course, Sister.”

Alistair merely chuckled as Hawke stepped out. “I promise she'll be returned as she left.”

“Thank you,” Bethany whispered and bowed politely.

Hawke nervously walked with the king and the entourage of men back to the palace. “Why did my men say they came?”

“Hm? Oh, the Qunari said he and his people had business with me on the Inquisition's behalf and wanted it finished since it was important.” Alister snickered under his breath. “Bold one, that horned fellow. Would have killed one of my guards if I hadn't heard the shouting; they surrounded him in disbelief. Not to worry, _they_ have been lectured about how to treat guests.”

“I appreciate it. There was...disagreement. My friend probably just wanted the business finished so he could...go on his way,” Hawke trailed off, feeling her stomach tighten with a bit of pain.

Alistair frowned handsomely. “Oh. Well, the elf showed up not long after, verified the Qunari's words. I recognized him. Hard not to with those white tattoos.”

“That's certainly true.”

“Ah, here we are,” Alistair sighed as they entered through a courtyard and into some corridors. “Your friends are in one of the meeting rooms. I was about to have dinner prepared.”

“We cannot intrude on your time for that long,” Hawke replied, already feeling awkward in the palace despite Alistair's easy-going personality.

“Nonsense,” the king waved her off. “I've not had _good_ company in a while.”

They walked a few more halls before the guards suddenly stopped and formed around a door on their left. Hawke swallowed as she followed Alistair inside.

Fenris was sitting on one of the couches, glancing around. The moment he caught her gaze he mouthed an apology. She shook her head at him, then her eyes saw Ash. The Qunari was standing off to the side of the fireplace, arms crossed, one leg bent, jaw locked and not looking at them.

Alistair clapped his hands.

“That'll be all, guardsmen. Do tell the cook I'm ready for dinner with three guests.” Hawke watched the men leave in their loud armor, then saw the king gesture. “Maker, where are my manners? Please sit, Champion. As you can see, your friends aren't in custody.”

“And I appreciate that,” Hawke murmured and sat near Fenris, leaving Alistair to the other couch since he _was_ royalty.

Ash hadn't even acknowledged her. Just stood like a stone wall with his eyes closed.

Her heart ached, but she pulled the sealed parchments out and handed them to Alistair over the ornamental table between them. “Your letters. Information about Adamant and Weisshaupt in detail that your birds wouldn't have brought. Personal letter from Inquisitor Lavellan, as well, I believe.”

“Wonderful. More news.” Alistair groaned and dropped the parchments to the table, surprising she and Fenris. “How about  _you_ tell me what this is all concerning? I like a bit of warning before my bad news.”

Hawke raised her brows and kept as formal a sitting position as possible. “Well, your Majesty, Adamant...was bad. The Wardens are in a terrible state. Those left are leaderless and dealing with hatred among their comrades. Someone needs to go to Weisshaupt or at least speak with them there.”

“Why? I heard many were hearing the Calling, as I was, but that doesn't make you crazy. Just makes you go to the Deep Roads to fight, usually.” Alistair snorted. “Although Cousland decided to go find a way to stop the blighted thing from happening. Something about a flower? I don't know. Maker bless his determination to stay alive for that... _crow_ of a woman he loves. Personally, I think he's mad.”

She had no idea what Alistair was talking about, so she ignored the comments and said, “The Wardens were easily misled by their commander who _believed_ a Tevinter magister was going to help her end all Blights by attacking an old god before it could become corrupted by the darkspawn. She encouraged the Warden mages to practice blood magic, using the warriors as sacrifices. Many willingly submitted, some were forced against their will or did so to avoid other harm.”

Instantly that jovial expression fled the king's face and was replaced by something truly terrifying. The infamous chatty king was visibly stone.

Alistair sat forward, eyes completely sharp and unmerciful. “Continue,” he softly said.

“Clarell was finally brought to reason, fighting to try to kill the Tevinter, but Corypheyus's dragon showed and killed her. The fortress was very torn up and has since been mostly destroyed due to demonic presences needing removed. I myself, along with Ash behind me here, fell into a Fade rift the Inquisitor opened last minute to save us all from falling hundreds of feet to our death.” Hawke shuddered at the memory of it, swallowing as Alistair's expression got more dangerous. “When we entered Lavellan regained some of his memories of the Conclave. These _Wardens_ had obeyed Corypheus and helped murder the Divine and all who attended.”

A large fist slammed down on the table as Alistair colorfully cursed. “I gave them land, I gave them resources, I gave them protection after the Blight. The Wardens were my _family_. How could they _do this_?”

“Blood magic, along with whatever sway the Tevinter used. Corypheus wanted them to unknowingly create him a demon army to conquer Thedas. I suppose they were so desperate with the false Calling from Corypheus.”

“The bird said something about Lavellan refusing to exile the Wardens. Now I know why so many have been angry.” Alistair jerked back, face dark. “I wouldn't have blamed him for exiling them after this. It's completely atrocious. _I_ will make consequences for them. _I_ will deal with Weisshaupt.”

“I agree, but he was right that we did have a minority fighting back and ally with us during the siege,” Hawke pointed out. “Good men and women who didn't deserve that label and weren't part of things. And it is damning Thedas's only line of defense against an Archdemon. Your authority is best in the circumstances, given your own Warden status.”

Alistair rubbed his brow with his thumb and forefinger. “At least a few kept their brains about them. You say they are leaderless—no other Senior Wardens survived?”

“Stroud died in the Fade with the Nightmare demon to give us time to escape; he'd hidden away because he refused to be sacrificed for their cause and wanted to figure out how to get help, so Wardens were sent to find him and bring him in as a prisoner. His last request was for you and Cousland to find a way to reorganize the Wardens that were left.”

“Maker. Stroud was a good man.” Alistair shook his head and looked at the fire. “It might be better if I handle this myself. Aeric Cousland is a devilishly handsome rogue...with a very particular temper. A national hero, and one to rally around, yes, _but_ I know him. I traveled with him. He loves a witch who would happily slaughter them all for their ignorance, and Cousland himself would probably stab most of the Wardens left after hearing this. Always did have a temper towards injustice after...after what happened to his family. I believe he slaughtered most of Howe's men by himself in his rage.”

Hawke had heard about the Hero of Ferelden's past long ago and winced, feeling terrible for Cousland all over again. “I'm sorry to bring you this. I know the situation is dire enough. Perhaps if you could personally train a few here that could return to Skyhold and help the Wardens?”

“Perhaps. I feel...that this needs addressed, though, before the news breaks everywhere in Thedas. The people's trust will have left them entirely. I must speak with these Wardens and remind them of what they are and their duty. It will surely be the only speech I write myself.”

“Then please send a bird to Leliana. She remains as the Inquisitor's spymaster,” Hawke explained with a tired sigh.

“Oh, I know. I've already met with them over the mage problem. Those mages were _lucky_ the Inquisition took them in. I was ready to have them all exiled for what they'd brought into Redcliffe. Redcliffe's people have suffered _enough_ from magic.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” No argument from her; she'd heard the stories of what happened there long ago, and the king had been there for it, himself.

Alistair sighed dramatically and rubbed his face. “Maker. This world grows darker each day despite Inquisition victories.”

“Indeed it does. Corypheus must be stopped. We must put aside petty politics and fight the greater problem,” Hawke argued with mild annoyance. “Yet Ferelden and Orlais do nothing but bicker, and the same with other countries to the north.”

Alistair's brows rose, but he smirked again, anger relaxing. “That, Champion, is all down to Celene and my wife and their foolish Game thing. I tend to avoid such discussions. I find they give me frightful headaches as none simply _speak_ and go about it.”

Fenris snorted next to Hawke while she casually looked over her shoulder.

Ash was looking at her, no expression readable in his eyes. The moment their eyes met, he looked away again. It was like a stab to her side.

Hawke faced front again, trying not to let the sadness and frustration show.

“Then again those headaches might just be caused by Anora. We're politically wedded, you know. She loved my half-sibling. She hates me. If I weren't so...mannered a man, I'd have a mistress. Or five. Cousland _did_ try to sway me to get one, worried I'd be emotionally abused so much, but I decided to take the risk. We've...slowly...made some progress. My wife is a master at holding control of herself.”

“She just doesn't appreciate you as she should,” Hawke murmured with a soft smile. They were lucky, to be fair; Alistair was a hell of a king despite it all. “Leliana spoke about your sense of humor being a problem.”

Alistair laughed, sitting up right and clapping his knee. “That is because my wife _has none_ of her own. I believe the only time I've seen her laugh was when I was being fitted for our wedding, and I fell down the bloody step thing.”

“Must be difficult, your Majesty.”

“Maker. It's frustrating. Everything is about duty. Duty, duty, duty. On the rare occasions the woman smiles, I'm reminded she _is_ human.” Alistair shook his head and glanced past her. “Your guard is rather impressive, Champion. Reminds me of the one I knew named Sten. He was a hornless fellow, though.”

“Sten is a role name,” Hawke replied, knowing it was going to annoy Ash if something wasn't said. “But I'd imagine. Qunari in Ferelden are very rare, hornless even more so.”

“Isn't that the truth. Sten was a quiet fellow, very withdrawn, and if he spoke it was usually to criticize or say how annoying I was. Aeric and I got to baiting him _just_ to get him to scream. The Qunari was a walking bomb of frustration,” Alistair recounted, then chuckled to himself. “But he discovered that he _loved_ cookies. What a great day that was. Maker, I'd never laughed so hard. Or the time he and that damn mabari of Cousland's had a growling contest. Glorious, I tell you.”

Hawke smiled as she straightened, making Fenris frown, because she looked up to something. And she was. With a grunt she stood up, surprising Alistair in his laughter. “Your Majesty, this Qunari is not my guard. I lied to get him in your city with me. He is, in fact, my lover. My...other half.”

Fenris clasped a hand over his face in exasperation while Alistair gaped, brows way up and eyes very wide. Hawke looked over her shoulder and saw Ash was watching her again, but his expression had shifted. There was surprise, annoyance and...in his eyes, the smallest bit of warmth.

Alistair coughed with a smirk. “Well. That is interesting, Hawke, but then again, you're an interesting sort. Like Cousland with that snark of his. Maker, I miss that rogue. He could always shut the witch up with sarcasm and a smirk. Of course that was always followed by some disturbing kiss that I prayed he didn't need cleansed for. To think he gave her a child. _Willingly._ See, I'd never worry about even a Qunari eating its own offspring, but _her_? Blessed Andraste, may the child be Cousland enough. Right, that's a bit unfair. She never did eat Aeric, after all.”

Hawke bit her lip to stop the laugh at the king's recounting with such fervent annoyance of this witch woman; a chuckle slipped out anyway. “I wanted you to know that I've nothing to be ashamed of, but I'm trying to protect him from human ridiculousness. Didn't need an arrest for him punching out a guard for insult.”

The king merely clapped his hands with a quick smile. “Of course. Well, Qunari lover of Hawke, please sit. Food is on its way. I can hear the servants coming.”

Hawke scooted to the middle of the couch while Fenris got up and settled in a nearby fancy chair. Ash hesitated, then sighed under his breath and moved to sit on the cushion next to her, not touching.

“Please, you've nothing to worry on my account. I put up with Cousland's love of the witch. That was much worse. She's just... _mean_.” Alistair smiled with reassurance, then turned his head as servants entered with trays. “Excellent. Dinner's early. I apologize for not having it in the dining hall, but I just _really_ like how quiet this room is. You know, without a dozen guards trying not to loudly breathe while I eat.”

Hawke said nothing, just watched as the trays were set up for them to eat in the sitting room. She sniffed the covered plate, delighted as a maid removed the silver top. Everyone had steaks specially prepared with rice, rolls, a soup and a dessert. Hawke almost groaned at the smells, then laughed as Alistair actually did so.

“Dig in, please,” he asserted and waited as a servant filled his wine glass.

When the maid returned to fill her own, Hawke covered it with her fingers. “Water or tea, please.”

The maid bowed and left the room to get her refreshment. Fenris quickly dug into the steak, nodding approval at Hawke as he stuffed his face politely as possible. Hawke waited until the maid brought her fresh tea and drank some of it before she began eating. Ash finally cut into his steak next to her after she started eating while Alistair chatted away with Fenris, asking about those white tattoos of his.

Hawke took the moment as she swallowed down a bite to say, “I was very worried.”

Ash didn't reply, just drank from his wine glass and picked up his roll.

“You left and didn't return for hours.”

Again, no response.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, poking at her now unappealing food with her fork.

Ash paused a little then, sniffed, and drank more wine.

Hawke sat her fork down and forced a swallow of tea. “I won't...I won't make you stay. If you tell me where you're going, I'll write you about the baby's birth.”

The wine glass in his hand slammed down harshly on the tray, cracking thankfully near the top and not snapping in half at the stem. Hawke winced, noting that Alistair had stopped talking and was watching them with confused interest. Ash's jaw was locked as he fumed quietly.

“ _Parshaara_ ,” he quietly snapped under his breath.

“Lover's spat?” Alistair whispered to Fenris as he leaned toward the elf.

Fenris watched Hawke and Ash sitting uncomfortably. “Just...a misunderstanding.”

“Ah. Well, you'll sort it. I must have twenty of those every day with Anora.”

Hawke ignored the king and her friend and turned on the cushion to look up at Ash. “I said I was sorry. I addressed a concern of mine. What else must I do?”

“ _V_ _enak hol,_ ” he grunted, not looking at her.

She didn't understand the phrase, but she did see Fenris wince at hearing it. It must not have been...good. “We're talking when we leave.”

“ _Meravas_.” Ash glanced to the king and elf, unperturbed by their staring as he finished his food.

Hawke sighed, again not entirely sure of the word. She'd caught some Qunlat, learned some of the important phrases around the compound to get in and out, but not much beyond it. They all finished their food quietly, Hawke answering more questions Alistair had.

She bowed as she rose, smiling. Alistair smiled back and motioned for her to rise. “Please, no bowing.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, but I do, Champion. I'm still not used to all this, even after the years I've dealt with it.” Alistair shrugged and shook her hand firmly between his. “I will be sure the guardsmen do not hinder you in any way while you have business in Denerim. That goes for your companions, too.”

“That is much appreciated, Alistair, as was dinner. I hope the letters aren't too painful,” Hawke thanked him.

Damn it, he really was a personable sort for a king.

They left the palace, working back through the courtyard and gate toward the markets. Ash strode behind them, looking massive and intimidating while Fenris stayed a bit near her side.

“What did he say?” Hawke demanded under her breath.

“Called you 'wearying one.' It's...kind of an insult in Qunlat. Okay, it's mostly an insult.”

“Fucking great,” Hawke grumbled as they crossed the back of the marketplace toward the magic shop and Bethany's home.

“But,” Fenris whispered, “he said he'd speak with you. A 'so shall it be' type of thing.”

With mild relief at that, Hawke entered her sister's home with both men, desperately wishing she weren't pregnant so she could get drunk on whiskey.

 


	31. Marevas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, uh, note for later as I'm editing to post this old stuff: I'm gonna think a friggin' Qunari like the Arishok is gonna have some stronger genetic material than humanity's supposedly overriding genes. lol.)

 

 

 

 

Ash stood out behind the small shack in the tiny scrap of grass that existed there. His back was to it, his eyes gazing distractedly over the city wall.

He was so frustrated.

The Iron Bull had been right—things were changing with the pregnancy, and Hawke was handling things differently. He could understand that, even respect it, but some of it just...grated him. That was why he'd called her a wearying one. She was easily this day a sight to make him uncomfortable.

When he'd left the house, he'd not entirely known what his goal was. He just knew he'd wanted out of there. Ash had been Arishok—he'd never dealt with such disrespect, usually killed any who dared, and it actually _wounded_ him some that it was coming from Hawke, the only human to ever give him the respect he'd seen in Kirkwall. To give him respect enough to earn place as his _kadan,_ no less.

Ash had wandered for a while, scaring several merchants as he looked across their wares and moved on. A dwarf weapons trader got his attention and tried to excitedly sell him a few weapons, but Ash refused and walked away, feeling drained.

That was when he'd just made the decision to approach the human king and be done with the affair in the city.

Hawke wasn't the _only_ one changing through this time. Ash himself was fighting strange protective urges and instincts.

Even he had hoped the rut hadn't taken, that a later one would work. Yet, when the signs had slowly started showing, he'd grown increasingly excited. Ash hadn't wanted to believe it at first—worried he'd think she was and discover she was without child. But enough signs and instincts had built up that when she'd tried to stay in the Fade, he had just snapped.

After their argument in the Skyhold tavern, Ash had gone searching for her and smelled her blood from the stables back to the infirmary. And he'd been so angry about it. So...terrified she'd been killed. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. It was that there'd been too many threats. And in his relief he'd forgiven her, just wanting to sleep with her in his arms safely.

That made this time a little different.

Ash had escaped outside to get some air and be alone.

He knew the elf had told her what he'd said in the human's palace, and part of him hoped it upset her.

It was in times of uncertainty, of strange anxiety in the newness that he missed the Qun. Missed his ships, his many men waiting on his command to protect them. So much of who he was had tied into his role because of the Qun that he...didn't honestly know _whom_ he was.

Ash knew that he was a very capable male, a strong warrior attractive to females and had strong seed. He liked being a source of awe or fear for annoying _bas_. He had intellect, skill and experience and the ability to philosophize well. He'd appreciated all of Hawke's efforts back then.

Ash sighed to himself in the evening light.

He knew he loved her, that during those times of whips and chains, knives and fire against his skin that _she_ had been the one he'd thought of to escape the pain. Ash had called up memories of her face in the evenings of the compound, her large doe eyes always watching him, even if she wasn't near him at the time.

She'd given so many signs of interest that he'd had to have been blind to not notice, even across their difference in species and culture. His _men_ had noticed them, too.

And...for some reason, perhaps lack of sex during the Kirkwall stay, Ash had started returning it. Watching her solely on a visitation. Only speaking with her. Answering questions she had. Giving her _favor_ that his men had readily noticed changed from simple respect of her as liaison to appreciation of her particularly. The guards had never been offended; mostly entertained by her constant staring at him when they talked. 

And, the night after the Vicount's son's death was avenged, she'd kissed him. Ash had known by her scent that she was aroused by him, and he took that in stride—he was a desirable, strong breeding male and knew so as a fact. It was one reason he _was_ Arishok.

Her sudden lift on her toes to kiss him _had_ surprised him though.

Qunari weren't much for kissing—it was typically human affection, though some other races practiced it. So the kiss itself was...his first of its nature. The impact it had upon his mind had immediately worried him; his body had reacted, ready for her, his fingers twitching with the need to grab her and toss her in his personal tent, fucking her until he couldn't move anymore without killing her in the process—but his mind had gone intensely possessive and into thoughts he'd never had before, and that was entirely disturbing no matter how aroused she made him.

So he'd settled for kissing her back, but only for a moment before his control quickly returned and he'd left. He couldn't show she had that power over his thoughts, not to her and not to anyone else. Ash had lain awake that entire night, throbbing with want of her. Even if he'd had a healer with him, it wouldn't have been enough—the desire had only been for her. It was why he'd come apart when she'd told him to find release in her at Skyhold. Being able to take her after so long? In hindsight, the rutting after that almost appeared destined, another way of purging all the previous building in his system.

And then everything had changed.

He'd nearly killed her during their unavoidable fight, his heart in pain as his fingers had squeezed.

She'd told him how she wouldn't let him betray himself to anger and revenge, would fight him honorably for that, and that he had _worth_ beyond his ken to her. And each successive word from her had given his heart more pain and anger, but also desperation, need and want. Her later look of acceptance had only further pissed him off despite making him _damn_ proud of her, the sound of her last dagger hitting the floor forever echoing in his ears. When the pain in his chest became unbearable, his mind screaming to finish her honorably just as strongly as something else in him had shouted to spare her, he'd thrown her far from him in his almost refusal that a human could _mean that much_. Ash hadn't even winced at her fall, the almost breaking of another column from the throw with the impact of her body. He'd not cared if she'd broken bones from it; he'd already figured her to be quite busted inside from the entire fight. He _had_ wanted her to feel the pain in him, the turmoil she alone had caused. Poison, as he'd thought then and that demon boy had accurately said in the tavern.

But after his return, he'd been taken in, tortured, tried for reeducation unsuccessfully with only pain and even left abandoned in a cell for some time, only living because of a single servant who risked his life just to help. Alongside his own curses and misdeeds, he'd thought of her. Wondering how she was, where she was, if she'd found another male. He ached for her face then, her annoying questions.

And after so many hours and so many thoughts, he'd started to wonder _why_ she was so special that his very being had rejected killing her. Her letter of support and worry after everything between them that was whispered in his cell had been a very shocking vital boost to his will, making him stronger even when he'd long since accepted death was coming. It was why he'd managed to smuggle the response out—she deserved truth after everything, and that truth was his very debated acceptance of her as his _kadan_. He'd counted on her experience to translate the word and all of its meaning.

Thus when he'd been exiled instead, he'd first tried to kill himself. He'd heard her city had finally burst apart on itself, but that she'd lived. Even so, the exile was so painful, so raw, that he couldn't handle anything at first. Being without Qun was the absolute worst punishment, and it was terrifying for him. They'd broken his weapons, making him worse than soulless by losing them—showing he wasn't _worth_ his soul.

But he couldn't do it. Not when he had heard she'd lived and hadn't seen her one last time to know if she was still the same person. So he'd sniffed out word, traded and bartered and even stole to get where he had to find her.

The utter relief he'd felt at seeing her scream from those Skyhold ramparts, calling him her _kadan_ after all those years...it was like all of his wounds healed, all of his scars had faded. He was whole. The poison in him had only been poison because of the Qun itself. It now felt like this warmth circulating, constantly keeping him in a state of contentment he'd always thought he'd reached, but now knew that he never had before. His rutting with her was merely an additional layer of rightness he felt, and knowing she now carried his son made him feel as both the most powerful being in existence and the most vulnerable. He had created life within her...with her...something so crazy and intense for him to constantly realize as he looked to her daily, observing that part of her body where his son grew.

Ash felt his horns brush the wall behind him as he tilted his head.

Yes, Hawke was his female. There wouldn't be another.

How could there be?

Still, there had to be changes now with the pregnancy, yes, but also boundaries.

She wasn't the only one going through these changes, just the ones in her body.

He needed to know she trusted him; it was something that as of late had started to eat at him, and this thing with the elf had only proven his instincts were onto something. The guilt of that moment, of his fingers on her neck, was so hard to shake, and naturally he understood Hawke's own guilt with the darkspawn magister being just as deep and difficult. To him, even her guilt over his fate after their fight wasn't enough, though, to be as intense as what he still felt burn in him when people questioned his presence near her, were reminded of that moment in time. It was why her joke, even showing she'd moved on from that moment for herself, had bothered him so deeply. Yes, he'd nearly killed her for being _kadan_. And he'd been extremely wrong to do so, no matter the rest of the situation or what was honorable at the time.

In the end, he supposed, he needed to know she trusted him in many ways.

The little back door squeaked as it opened.

Ash stilled, wondering if it was dark enough for him to be hidden and left alone, but Hawke slid outside and shut the door, eyes going right up to his face. Well, _vashedan_. He _had_ guaranteed her audience earlier, hadn't he?

“May we speak?” she asked quietly, the darkening sky and its white moon shining on her.

He nodded. “ _Shanedan_ , Hawke.”

Hawke clearly remembered the word from many compound talks, smiling a little to herself. She shifted on her feet, fluttering like always. “I said I was sorry. I just...I'm worried that you'll...maintain Qun-like standards for ones I care for.”

Instantly his mood further soured. Ash sneered down at her, wishing he was in his red armor and upon his dais for full effect, remembering how it had intimidated her into silence or dismissal. Had his affection let her forget those feelings, too? Did she feel anything of the sort aside from adoration and love? “You once angrily said I only wish to know what I want and to bed you. False words, yet I must wonder, Hawke—is the reverse true? Is that all you want from me?”

“What?” she asked, jaw opening. “No! Of course not.”

“Hm. You do not trust me. You believe I will harm any companions on a whim. Have you always found me so simple, the respect a lie?” Ash asked, a leash tight on his temper again. “You certainly find convenience in your knowledge of me. And you obviously delight in bedding me, needing it more than any female ever has around me.”

Hawke almost shook with anger. “Damn it, that's not what I meant. I know you won't just kill any of them just because you're annoyed. But I worry about something misunderstanding leading to a seriously bad situation! I know you're extremely intelligent, Ash. You know I respect you greatly. And yeah, I like bedding you, you jerk. You like bedding me just as much.”

Ash looked away a moment, almost tempted to tell her he'd had better. It wouldn't be true, but it would shut her up for a while. He'd certainly had more demanding females in the past, and very rough, exhausting ruttings, but _nothing_ like the intensity that existed in their mating.

“So you do not trust me to control myself or my temper,” he finally said.

“I trust you. I worry that something might get you off-guard before you can catch yourself.”

“Stop lying, Hawke.” Ash crossed his arms tighter, already weary again. “You don't trust me, no matter all I've done—the times I've saved you, taken blows for you, killed for you. All for some bruises on an elf who deserved them.”

“He didn't deserve them!”

Ash pushed off the wall and got dangerously close to her face. “He _desired_ you, and not just in the past, but even during that moment I met him again. Possibly during our travel here. And you'd been slightly intimate once before. Neither one of you spoke to me about this. Neither of you thought it might be something I would like to know. Tell me, Hawke, would you like to know if a female we encounter had bedded me or not? Birthed my _imekari_ as you will?”

“Actually, _no_ , I wouldn't,” Hawke snapped, but her voice shook. “I don't need to know such things.”

“Ah, and if that female were part of our group? If that female _still_ desired me, wished for my cock?” Ash brazenly growled in her face, dripping with sarcasm. “Would you still be so uncaring?”

Hawke's hand twitched at her side, no doubt itching to slap him. Ash narrowed his eyes further. “It doesn't matter. Fenris had _put aside_ all of that, and _I love_ you. I wanted to tell you, was planning to, but then I didn't want to upset any new friendships you might be forming with people I care about. I didn't know _how_ to say it. Ash, I never loved him. I never forgot you or your kiss, and I held that up like a standard no one else could meet. To be honest, his withdraw from the lyrium touch issue was a blessing and saved me much later heartache. When I got your letter after...I ached so much for you.”

“Mm,” he grunted, semi-satisfied with her words. He pushed nonetheless—not for her as much as he thought, but for himself. “Even so, you do not trust me.”

“I sleep by you defenseless every night. I trust you.”

“Do you, Hawke?” Ash asked as he started cornering her against the city wall, her steps backing up for each one he took toward her. He glared down at her, angry with himself, a huge hand resting next to her face. “I do not think you do.”

Hawke gritted her teeth. “ _Yes,_ I do!”

“Yet you believe me unable to control my own temper, like an _imekari_ or a pathetic _bas._ To do what I must to relax.”

“You heard what I said before. I'm not repeating if you can't listen.”

Ash slid his palm over her throat, eyes lighting with anger as he slightly pressured the skin there, but not enough to bruise. He got closer to her face, searching her eyes for weakness, her face for any fear. For true trust. And finally he asked the question that had been burning in him for months, saying, “Do you trust me not to kill you, Hawke?”

She blinked, as if caught by surprise, then stared at him without hesitation. Good. But then she said, “I carry your son. Even at your angriest, you wouldn't dare.”

It wasn't the answer he was looking for.

“I've had many sons. I almost killed one recently, and would have still had we not had a trade of sorts,” he softly said, watching her eyes widen in remembrance. Ash kept the threat going to test her, wondering if she'd buckle. No, he'd never hurt the baby inside of her, and he'd only hurt her if she absolutely betrayed him and tried to attack him. Ash bent closer, whispering in her ear, “I could _always_ make more of them.”

“You wouldn't. You're exiled, without Qun. None of those females would have you,” she countered, glaring at him.

“Do you truly believe you are the only female out in Thedas who desires me, Hawke?” he asked, brow rising. Her face paled in the moonlight to the point it was noticeable. Ash curled his lip, prodding once more, needing to know. “Do you fear one day I'll just _squeeze_ a little too hard and finally snap your neck?”

Hawke stared up at him. Her strength was still there in full force, but she was showing signs of weakening...though not to fear. To sadness.

“You love me,” she whispered, but she sounded so heart broken.

“Do I?” he asked with a growl of temper, more angry at himself in that brief second for causing that sadness. “How can I, a Qunari _beast,_ know love?”

“Stop,” Hawke grunted, shifting her weight. “Just stop. I know you love me; you've proven it many times.”

“And do you trust it? Do you trust everything I've done to be true and not some very long, complicated plot to get revenge?” he asked, leaning back a little.

Hawke gasped loudly in the night. Tears welled in her eyes and she slid away from him, chin quivering.

“You...wouldn't. You have far more honor than that,” she managed to say as she shook. “So yes, I _trust_ you, though how you could even _say_ such a thing is terrible!”

“How can you be sure?”

“Stop! Stop this! You would call such plots dishonorable and worthy only of humans!”

Ash shook his head and turned away, tired of testing her and only finding her struggling to accept her truth—though she'd, in her answer, proven she did know him rather well. Hawke bravely snatched his wrist. Ash easily shook her grip off and grabbed for the door so he could leave.

“No! No, you said we'd talk. We're not done talking, Ash!”

Ash's chest heaved in pain and exhaustion. “ _I_ am done, Hawke. I have had enough.”

“Ash!”

“You cannot admit your own truth. You cannot admit your trust in me has already shaken enough. Perhaps you do not trust me to handle myself.” Ash closed his eyes. His mind briefly flicked back to her statement in that damn palace, the one where she'd insinuated he could leave her side and she'd just casually alert him to his son's birth...as if she didn't care. It had infuriated him so much he'd barely been able to stop the urge to scream at her. He _did_ love her, he _did_ want this son, and the fact that she'd thrown those words at him were so deep an insult that he wasn't sure he could forgive her. “In that human's palace, you told me I could go. That you would just _contact_ when my _son_ was born. Do you even understand the level of insult? After everything, you tell me to walk away.”

“I...Ash, I was worried I'd pushed you too far and you'd want to leave,” she admitted, cursing under her breath. “Of course I don't want you to go. Ever. But...I didn't want to upset you further. I just...I don't know! You didn't come back for a while, and it scared me! But I did _not_ mean it as an insult, I swear!”

Ash deeply considered this.

In the compound before, there were plenty of times she'd annoyed the crap out of him. But it had been his compound, so he'd just simply kicked her out, knowing full well in a few days she'd be right back in his space, bugging him, entertaining him, making him consider her all the more. It was her way, and it was definitely influenced by her appreciation of him. This, though,...was more her territory. He had none of his own anymore, even lent to him. So when she'd pushed his temper, _he'd_ needed to walk out for a while. Apparently she had not realized their pattern had reversed.

“I did not trust my words,” he finally said. “Not in that anger.”

“Shows how much better you are than me,” Hawke winced, looking to him for understanding. “So...you literally just needed a moment? I thought that at first, but...the way you walked out and didn't return for so long, I....”

“The city was annoying me. We only had the errand, and it was simple enough to begin.” Ash rolled his eyes, but managed a lesser glare. “Very dramatic, Hawke.”

“Please, _kadan_ , you go from being hungrier than ever in your life to feeling you have to piss every few minutes to wanting to have sex to wanting to scream because your hair won't get out of your face and knowing you're getting fat, and your breasts are _sore_ and everything is _sore,_ and you're unable to fight or be capable of anything you're used to all while wanting to vomit from nausea,” she rushed out in a low grumble. “Do all that in minutes. Constantly.”

His brows popped up, and Ash felt legitimate sympathy and slight shame in his anger. Okay. So. His female was...undergoing more than he realized inside her head for this. Yet again the Bull was right.

She held her face in one hand. “I know. It's...ridiculous. And the fact that I _know_ it's ridiculous does not stop it from happening. So...please just bear with me while I figure these changing things out. I told you I was going to try not to be a nightmare, but....”

“You are...a rough, nagging dream,” Ash snickered, catching her smirk and feeling better for it.

Hawke nodded, shrugging her shoulders. “Okay, I'll give you that one.”

“Hawke, remember you are not the only one adjusting.” Ash flicked his eyes over her. “Your body is changing, but the changes affect more than just you.”

“I...I know.”

“Mm.”

“Damn it, Ash, I know you're stressed! It's why I was so glad Fenris came along; it let you get more rest!” Hawke kept tightly against the door, her pretty brown eyes strong on him. “Please know that I'm aware, Ash. I've wanted nothing but to see you relax completely.”

Ash shook his head. “You are just as the _Saar-qamek_ , Hawke.”

“Is that all I've ever been to you? Poison?”

Tempted to say yes, instead he sighed; she was asking for truth in her vulnerable tone. “No. But mind numbing sometimes. Madness inducing.”

“Ash....”

“What?”

“I'm feeling dramatic, but I need to ask and clear my head.” Hawke's voice shook. “Are...if I let you through this door, will you leave? Will I wake alone?”

Ash slowly blinked and looked away. How could he answer that without being offended? Would a simple, angry harsh _no_ be enough for her in this time, or would she need explanation and reassurance? Reassurance was not a Qunari thing. By necessity it showed inherent weakness. And yet, after everything, he'd learned to understand why humans often...required it.

At his lack of response during thought, Hawke broke in a way he'd never seen her do before. Her arms came down from their splayed position, and she slid to her feet, crying heavily. Her dark golden hair whipped in its tie as she buried her face in her arm, cries loud.

Ash actually took a step back in shock. He'd never seen her cry like this, seen her utterly _break._ His past self would call her a weak human and walk away, refusing to waste his time, though inwardly cursing himself _just_ a little and wishing she'd been stronger.

But Ash...wasn't Arishok anymore.

He didn't have an entire people to shoulder, to worry over...to willingly sacrifice everything about himself for in the Qun. Ash wanted to bend, pick her up, hold her. Kiss her, spark her flame back into life. But he didn't. Not while he wasn't sure; such things could be misleading, and though she might not see it this way, he respected her too much to do that.

With a harsh swallow, he spoke. “What you said today...I have never had such insult from you. And yet...I have to wonder now what might be best.”

“W-What do you mean?” she asked, bringing her red face up as she kept crying, little body shaking as she realized what he referred to. “Ash...don't go. I don't want you to go.”

He wouldn't, of course. But he didn't know what was coming in the completely uncertain immediate future. Saddened, he tilted his face at her. “Hawke, we once hoped to conquer our differences. With you wanting paths I do not, I cannot know what is coming.”

“We can! We'll figure it out.”

“You have selective trust with me. I imagine you will constantly worry about my effect on the _imekari._ ” Ash shrugged a little, baring one of his deepest concerns—that she wouldn't instinctively trust him to morally raise their son without undue influence of his culture in ways she disagreed with. “I would rather...my son have no knowledge of me than warped information between us discoloring his perception. He would look to me for identity, and I don't believe you'll allow it in some ways.”

Hawke ground her jaw. “You're wrong. I know you'll have to teach him a lot. I know I won't look like him as much, and that will be hard to reconcile. I know he'll gravitate to you. I just don't want him thinking _some_ of the Qun things—that he is worthless without a role, that he is unwanted if he doesn't submit. Not _all_ of it is bad, Ash, I agree with you. A sense of purpose and order is completely fine! I just have no idea what he'll be like, because even with your influence on him, he is _half_ me—a stubborn, emotional human. He might surprise you.”

“I would not give him role, Hawke. I would not teach him that he is worthless. As I have...grown to make my own worth since exile, I see the merits of self-building it teaches in creating one's _own_ role.” He bent his face, eyes clear. “ _This is_ what I mean, Hawke. _Trust_. I must know you will give me this.”

“That's a relief to hear, Ash.” She bit her lip with a little dip of her chin. “I see your point now. I do trust you. I just worry as well. I know it...makes it look like I don't sometimes, but I swear I do. Aside from Varric, I trust you more than anyone—even some of my own companions. Like I said, I sleep by you willingly, and I never flinch when you stroke my neck. If that doesn't say what you need to hear, I don't know what else can.”

He exhaled shakily, and it caught her wide eye. “You _trust_ me....”

Like the sun rising, Ash watched Hawke catch aware, her fantastic observance kicking in to read his soul once more.

She instantly took his hand. “Ash, _yes_. Love, I trust you to protect me, love me, not hurt me. There was nothing to ever forgive in the past. I made my choice, and then you made yours. I love you.”

Ash grunted an acknowledgment in relief, knowing he was getting very tired and just drained even in his pride that she held him so high. Despite growing used to some of the more emotional feelings lately, this was pure saturation in a way he couldn't digest or process. He felt overstimulated. “We will discuss it. I need calmness.”

“Nothing to think about. We had a fight, and it's done.” Hawke sniffed as she stared up at him. “Don't leave.”

“Hawke.” He shook his head at her, surprised she hadn't gotten the earlier point. That she hadn't just _known_ he wouldn't even be capable of such a thing. Perhaps years ago, but not anymore.

“Ash... _please_.”

He rubbed his chin tiredly as she sniffed. “If you trusted me as you say, you'd know I was never going to abandon you or our _imekari_.”

“I...damn it. Okay, that's coming from the pregnancy's effect, I swear.” Hawke blinked and a large, shimmery tear slid down her cheek. “I'm sorry I've snapped some lately. The pregnancy really makes my emotions difficult. I've never been through this before. I'm learning.”

“Yes, they are, and they are overwhelming us both to a degree,” he agreed with her. Ash loved her, and so would not pity her in this. She did not need pity. She needed strength and guidance. “No matter what trust issues you have or don't, it seems that it is not my control you fear. It is your own, Hawke. Stop saying it is mine. _That_ is insult.”

“Yes,” she whispered, understanding and shaking off the emotional grip as she relaxed against the door. “We can talk about Kirkwall. I won't force it, I promise you. Your opinion matters just as much as mine.”

“Fine.” He sighed again. “Go inside and rest.”

“Stop ordering me,” she countered softly. “I'm your mate, your _kadan_ , not your subordinate despite my outburst.”

“I only want you to do what is best for your health and that of our son, Hawke. We are both drained.”

“Very well.” She jerked her chin up. “But I'm not going to bed without you.”

“I need...space. Understand.” Ash relaxed his stance and moved away from the door, leaning against a fence post. “I will be here.”

With a sad, but knowing sigh, Hawke finally nodded. “All right. I will wait up, or sleep trying to do so. Just... _please, kadan_. Know I love you, and I will work hard on this. There is so much on my mind that taking care of somethings...needs reminding.”

A small hand settled over his chest armor when he simply watched her gather her strength. “You believe me, right? Because you had best.”

“Yes,” he whispered in the now very dark evening, feeling a bit better after the still draining talk. “I believe you.”

“Then I pray it is enough, Ash.” Hawke rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek, her arms holding his neck briefly. “I pray you will come down from this and forgive me. I pray I will forgive myself for making you doubt me. And I trust you. I really, really do, my love. I did so in the past, and that never changed. I knew when I woke up after the attack that you had done everything in your power to save me. As I said long ago, you can't imagine your true worth to me.”

Ash let her hold him, his chest feeling hot and uncomfortable with emotion as one of his hands lightly touched her back before he pulled away and opened the door, motioning for her to go inside. Hawke obeyed, but only after she'd looked at him again, sad hope shining in her eyes.  
  
  


 


	32. Shaneden, Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hawke sat up nervously for a long time, waiting on him to come back in the home. It had taken some serious prodding into her stubbornness, but he'd finally gotten her to see what he meant about trust. Yeah, he knew she trusted him with her life, but other small ways...bothered him. He wanted evidence by knowing she was sure of herself. Needed it. And she had to start showing she _did_ feel good about it.

Deep down Hawke was extremely excited to see how he'd handle the baby, how he'd teach their son to walk and speak in two languages...to grow and nurture him without stipulations. She'd just wondered if gushing about that excitement might annoy his masculinity. Maybe she should give it a go sometime.

And he was right about another thing.

She didn't trust her own control a lot.

Like she'd told him, her emotions seemed to have a mind of their own lately, something separate from her will, as did her body in its new adjusting period. She knew, intellectually, the Qunari wouldn't abandon her. He'd rather die, in fact, as proven by his saving her during her kidnapping in the attack. But everything had hit at once, her vulnerability ruling over that knowledge until she questioned that which she normally wouldn't have. This was maddening, like the poison he referred to which did just that as a result of its exposure to people.

Hawke wasn't used to having to hold back, to assess her emotions and take breaths to control it. She moved too much, fought too much, had too much to do and too much on her mind. But such things _had_ to change. It was paramount.   
  
It would take some time to really put the thoughts into effect, to create the change she wanted to prove to herself and Ash she could do it. 

Unfortunately her body was exhausted, and she soon passed out in her thinking, almost adorably drooling into one of the cushions. Her dreams kept her uncomfortable, too nervous in her sleep. Sometime later, though, she slowly woke to the feeling of being lifted and adjusted, then felt a very warm, very large familiar body surround hers.

Her eyes opened cautiously in the dark.

Ash stared at her, his face right next to hers on their laid out bedrolls.

With deep relief in her heart, Hawke leaned forward and kissed him, sighing as he kissed back and held her closer, the baby's bump resting between them. “You finally joined me,” she whispered with happiness.

“Yes.” Ash kissed her brow, stroked her back. “I thought on your words and my own, Hawke. You are my purpose—both of you. I have new roles, perhaps untitled, but they exist. And...just as you are learning, so am I. I must know these responsibilities more. You must trust yourself more.”

“Yeah. I thought about that, too. I've no doubts it'll still be bumpy, but...just remember that even nagging dreams go away and better ones come,” she smiled and nuzzled against him, feeling she could sleep peacefully now. “I'll try. I _really_ will, and you know how hard headed I get when I'm set on something, but I'm so tired, dearest. Please...forgive me?”

“An unnecessary request. Rest, _kadan_.”

“I love you, Ash. We'll keep figuring this out, talking it out, I promise. But...I'm....” she yawned, finishing that thought, and settled her cheek under his jaw. “You're the best. Don't know what I'd do without you now.”

She was almost asleep again when he quietly rumbled out, “And I you, Hawke.”

Hours later she woke again, startled by some noise in the room.

Bethany winced as she stepped around them with a smile and motioned for the kitchen. Excellent, her sister was going to cook breakfast.

With a slight stretch, Hawke sighed against the large Qunari body under her. They'd shifted at some point in the night to he on his back and she on her side with limbs draped over him, a position they often woke in. Ash was heavily asleep, his breathing deep and regular as he held her to him.

Hawke still felt the relief after he'd settled with her. The Qunari had become part of her life to the point losing him would be a form of death. He was in many ways the shadow Fenris had called him. But, really, Hawke knew it wasn't that Ash was a shadow, but a sun: A shining, glorious sun unafraid and merciless in its strong glare, warming her and burning his enemies.

Fenris grumbled awake nearby, his head near Lumia's as they slept in opposite directions on the floor. He blinked a few times and looked over, taking in the large gray body half-wrapped in furs and Hawke's face peeking out over the thick chest. Fenris smirked at her and sat up, stretching.

Lumia slowly came to then, blinking a little as well. The moment she saw Hawke was awake, the poor elf snapped together and got to her feet, asking quietly if Hawke needed anything.

“No, but if you'd like to help with breakfast that would be wonderful,” Hawke murmured with a small smile. “Relax, Lumia. It's all right.”

Lumia smiled back and rolled her bedding up tightly before joining Bethany in the little kitchen. Fenris was eyeballing Hawke and Ash, shaking his head.

Hawke grinned. “What?” she quietly asked.

Her friend gestured from the horns to the slender Qunari feet in a large sweeping move of his hand. “He's...too big.”

“Not too big,” she countered, palm sliding over Ash's bare, muscled belly as she pushed the fur back a bit. Her eyes knowingly trailed over his hip where his pants had ridden up a little in his sleep and across the bulge in them. Regardless of his _mood_ , he was an unquestionably large fellow by nature. Hawke grinned as Fenris turned a shade of tomato. “Big enough.”

“ _Hawke_.” Fenris was gaping.

She broke out in a suppressed giggle, then winced as her sore breasts pressed uncomfortably to Ash's side. “Ouch.”

Fenris frowned at her, raising his head to look. “What?”

“Oh...nothing.” Hawke tried to shift in the Qunari's hold, but Ash held tighter instinctively. She winced again and patted his chest. “Love... _ow_.”

Ash shifted a bit, stirring enough to adjust for her. Of course, he also did something he often did in his sleep, but it was rather inconvenient with Fenris watching and them without tent. Hawke's cheeks turned red as a large hand settled over her chest, holding one of her heavier breasts in the palm through her under clothes. She stared at Fenris, both of them wide-eyed.

“Ash,” she hissed as Fenris broke into a very terrible grin at her expense.

“Mm,” he grunted, stroking over her nipple with his thumb.

“We're not...ugh.”

Ash sniffed and leaned closer with his face, eyes still closed. He nuzzled her throat, sleepily asking, “Do you... _need_ something, _kadan_?”

Hawke clasped one hand over her eyes in complete embarrassment.

Fenris couldn't take it. He barked out a laugh and tried to cover his mouth, but it was too late.

Ash shot up, eyes wide and took in his location. He blinked, saw Hawke staring at him with embarrassment and the elf snorting under his breath. Ash then tilted his face down and saw his hand on her breast. Hawke waited for him to remove it, but Ash looked back up at her, smirked and adjusted his hold on her, squeezing slightly.

“ _Ash_ , there are others!”

“I've mated in view of many,” he grunted, completely unashamed.

“Yeah, well _I_ have not,” Hawke countered and flicked his large left horn.

Ash gave her another gentle squeeze and let go, shrugging. “You never lack for confidence during our mating. Must be...human sentimentality.”

Fenris fell backward laughing. Hawke glared daggers at the elf as he pointed at her with a chuckle. “Ah! Hawke! Your face is _so_ red!”

“Gonna beat me a Qunari in a second,” she growled and playfully smacked the large horns near her reach.

Ash shook his head in amusement, and without missing a beat, slid his hand down her side and smacked her ass, giving it a tight squeeze after. Hawke gasped at the sting and clutched at herself while Fenris laughed even harder, and Bethany brought her head up curiously to ask what was going on.

Ash just bumped his brow to Hawke's with a smirk. “Many...parts of you...are getting fuller, Hawke.”

“Did you just call me _fat_? The mother of your child, _fat_?”

Ash rolled his eyes and gripped her arse in his hand. “You are fuller. It is...stimulating.”

“You think you're funny,” she grumbled, trying not to smile.

Ash quickly kept a straight face, a fake annoyance in his eyes covering his enjoyment. “No. I have no humor. I am Qunari, or has your smaller, forgetful human mind already dropped that fact?”

Hawke bit her lip, then broke into a smile. “Damn it.”

Fenris stood up, shaking his head, and walked to Bethany when she called for him. Ash gently moved her and rose, stretching over her like the giant he looked. Hawke's eyes immediately riveted to his muscles, the definitions in the gray skin over his chest and thick toned arms. A little whimper escaped her, and she blushed while Ash knowingly smiled.

“Come.... _relieve_ yourself,” he playfully insinuated and helped her to her feet, walking through the kitchen past a smiling Bethany, blushing Lumia, and smirking Fenris to the back area.

Hawke used the outhouse, sighed in relief from her heavy bladder emptying, and when she walked out was instantly lifted against the city wall. Ash nipped her neck as she slid her legs around his waist and felt him thick and ready between her thighs against her. Blushing as they were in clear dawn hours outside, barely hidden by the outhouse, Hawke almost protested at the indecency, but moaned a little as his lips slid up her jaw and took possession of her mouth, his fulfilling cock sheathing a moment after.

 

 

[-----------------------------]

 

 

 

“Bethany, you can't imagine how amazing it is there for mages. I've seen the tower—it's impressive. They're all learning and studying to help the Inquisitor, and there are no Templars beating them down, just occasionally walking by to be sure everything is okay. Lavellan made damn sure they all knew the mages were allies governing themselves,” Hawke said as she finished her breakfast.

Ash was packing their things again, probably from lack of having anything to do. Bethany had been asking questions all morning about the mages and how things were really going with the Inquisition, and Hawke was rather excited to tell her. Varric wasn't wrong; her sister would enjoy being there.

“Skyhold itself is magnificent. You should...go, Bethany. You should see it, focus and help if you want. Varric is there most of the time, and he'll introduce you to great people.”

Bethany sighed over her apple. “Yes, but that means leaving _you_. I don't want to leave you or the baby. What if you need me?”

“Darling, I'll always want you near, but I'd love for you to do what is best for yourself. Be a little selfish for once. Take a rare opportunity before everything changes again with whomever gets elected Divine,” Hawke insisted as she swallowed her eggs down. “I mean it. You'd regret at least not seeing Varric there. I suppose you could make a decision after seeing it for yourself. And I'll write you updates and alert you to the baby's birth. You can come home then, if you want.”

“Well...perhaps.”

“Don't worry, Bethany. She'll have Lumia and Merrill if they go to Kirkwall. Aveline, too, once she chills out,” Fenris replied, chewing on a piece of bread. “Which is what they _should_ do.”

Ash had stilled over rolling the fur he'd slept with. Hawke winced, knowing it was a sore topic...but they did need to make a decision. “Ash...let us give some points. If you disagree with them, we won't go.”

“Sister,” Bethany began. She knew the Qunari hated Kirkwall. Everyone knew.

Hawke held her hand up as Ash sat on the largest cushion and stared at her near the counter. “ _Shanedan_ , Hawke.”

“Excellent! Thank you, dearest,” she smiled at him and collected herself. “First, we'd have a home—one big enough for all of us, plus our child to have room to grow. A small, closed off private yard and garden, let alone sands in Lowtown and out toward the Wounded Coast. It's in Hightown, so security would be there, and Aveline's been cleaning house and reorganizing shifts. I know the merchants, so we'd always have good prices on any stock we'd need. My friend there is a mage, yes, but she can heal if we need her to do so.”

Fenris shifted next to her, bowing his head a little. “ _Most_ of the city adores Hawke. They call her the Champion for a reason. She's greatly respected. Anyone going against her or threatening her will even meet with response from Lowtown folk, especially Hanged Man patrons we grew close with then.”

Ash narrowed his eyes in consideration as Hawke nodded. “I could keep track of spies with my own that way, Ash. People knew I only left to protect my sister, draw any possible ire from the Divine away from the citizens and later help the Inquisition.”

“Not to mention any spies coming for you are gonna be human or elf only. The blooded Qunari that have stayed in Lowtown are not Tal-Vashoth. They're deserters _of_ the Tal-Vashoth, finding the Gray Ones too brutish and still hung up on the Qun. These Qunari are strictly mercenaries, tightly knit, and a few of them are very regularly hired and trusted. _We_ helped the first one set up his business.” Fenris spread his hands peacefully. “You could _blend in_ , Ash. No one outside our own companions would even recognize you, probably. How many other visitors from around town did you have then, personally? Not many, I'd imagine.”

“And my presence within her...mansion?” Ash asked softly.

Hawke grinned to herself. The way he sat with his hands on his knees, hair behind his shoulders while he leaned forward looked so much like him on his dais that she almost wanted to kiss him. Maker, he had an effect on her. It didn't help that he was armor-less on his chest, leaving that sexy torso fully exposed. “We get you inside somehow. Then...I have a chat with Aveline, and hopefully don't have to kill her.”

“Best of luck with that one. She was _furious_ when you let him keep the _viddathari_ elves that time,” Fenris recounted, shaking his head. “That's why I'm glad she cleaned and reorganized the city guard after everything.”

Ash instantly glowered upon recognizing Aveline's description. “The redhead. I do not like her.”

“Oh, love, that feeling is mutual, I promise.”

“She is too obsessed with duty to the point of blinding herself to her own corruption.”

“A bit.”

“Mm.”

Hawke sighed and sat her cup of tea down. “ _However,_ if I can get her to help me...you will have legal standing and protection. As would our child. You'd both be citizens, have a _home_. No longer even technically an exile wandering. You'd _belong_ somewhere.”

Ash frowned, completely unsure of what she was referring to, but her sister lit up with excitement and clasped her hands together. Even Fenris raised his brows. “Maker, Hawke.”

“Please, I'm not having a ceremony. Just the papers getting signed. I want my son to have legal rights to everything I own. He needs to be legitimate. And, really, with the lot of you I ran with...I don't think half the Hanged Man's patrons would even _blink_ at me choosing a Qunari. If Varric hadn't been more or less my _own_ twin sibling, they'd have pushed for us to do so.”

“What is this you speak of, Hawke?” Ash grunted as he looked at her. “Our son is our son, given to you in rutting. He requires no proof of legitimacy beyond that acknowledgment. Is this a human concept?”

Fenris rolled his dark green eyes. “Oh, yes. Stupid nobility.”

“Look, I don't agree with it, but while there it would help. And like I said, it would give Ash his own rights. If anything ever happened to me, my possessions and home would go to him legally without anyone taking it from him,” Hawke countered and bit her lip a little as she turned back to the Qunari watching her. “More or less, love...we'd get married.”

Ash sat back on the cushion, frowning. “What is this? The Bull referred to something about marriage once.”

“They don't have marriage?” Bethany questioned with surprise.

Hawke shook her head. “No way. Me being his _kadan_ is about as special as it can get, and that's pushing it a bit since it can be temporary with role changes. _Kadan_ can mean closest friends, those almost family or...lovers. Qunari expect you to give up all bonds with reassignments.”

“What crap,” Bethany muttered and sipped her cup.

Fenris chuckled under his breath as Ash raised a brow.

Hawke coughed, gaining his attention again. “Ash, marriage for humans and elves is done differently, but for both races it is a...sort of union of two souls. It means two people love one another and wish to be bound, monogamous in bond. And often times this means more than that—for humans, at least, it is also a legal binding. It grants the spouses rights to certain properties of the one they marry, depending on the agreements and politics involved. For us and others who love one another and have no politics, it's completely equal. It would also mean no human could press me for a relationship by considering my one with you to be false or not real enough.”

“Excessive,” Ash grunted, fingers coming up to cup his chin. “If we are _kadan_ , nothing else matters. No _bas_ opinions matter. I can kill any male who dares.”

“True, but...this isn't Par Vollen, dearest.”

“Obviously,” he muttered, shaking his long white hair. “Why would this benefit our _imekari_?”

She licked her lip, one hand resting slightly on her belly. “Well, it would mean he is my legal child—not a bastard or illegitimate child without rights. Alistair himself was considered a bastard son of his father, but after his legitimate half-brother's death, the country was desperate enough to elevate him after his Grey Warden hero status. Most circumstances with bastards mean they don't know the noble parent well and are often offspring of nobility and servants or one night meetings with prostitutes. Even if the parents love one another and aren't married or one is higher stationed and already married, the children are illegitimate. Such children aren't given the same rights and positions as children born of a marriage or official union.”

At the dark frown on Ash's face, Fenris spoke once more, trying to make it easier to understand. “Ash, it's like the difference to you from all your past _imekari_ and the one inside Hawke. The rest you gave up to the Qun when they were created. You never knew them. They lack a position with you, right? But this _imekari_ you consider yours. In other words, you believe him 'legitimately' yours and as you said earlier, you acknowledge this. Hawke wants to make sure others know that legally the baby is both of yours and protect him through it...although I'm sure it'll be kept quiet, for safety's sake as well as shock value.”

Hawke watched her lover thinking, claws tapping on his knee as his eyes settled on her belly for a few minutes. “Ash, if we did this, we wouldn't be just mates. You'd be my legal husband. I'd be your wife. Such terms are more understood and respected because their boundaries are better known by...several races.”

“None of this is necessary,” he argued waving his hand out.

Hawke grinned again. Was he _trying_ to look like he had then, or was it completely subconscious? Here they all were, petitioning the Arishok...to marry her and move to Kirkwall. She wanted to laugh at the idea.

“We are what we are, and we have a son growing. Elf, you understand. Do you believe this human concept necessary to plan?”

Fenris looked like he'd bitten into a sour apple. “Well. I find it personally stupid, as you said, but I was never brought up with any respect for it. For the situation, however...yes. It would be _wise_ to consider, if not do. Trust me. Humans are...merciless on pomp and ridiculousness.”

“Agreed.” Ash sighed and shifted his eyes to Hawke. “What is required?”

Excitedly she paced a little, smirking at Fenris. “I've never cared about getting married, either, so I will forgo normal pomp and ceremony. We'll just repeat a few statements and sign legal papers. We exchange rings. Done.”

“Why rings?”

“Custom.”

Ash debated again, eyes flicking over her. He stood and paced, almost mirroring her.

Fenris gestured as he said, “Whether you marry or not, Kirkwall would be best.”

“Your statements carry merit. The city does not.”

“Give it a chance.”

“Oh I did. Several. I should have _razed it to the ground_ and brought all of you under the Qun,” he snapped at Fenris, eyes hot for a second as he paused in his pacing. “It would have been a far more merciful fate, possibly changed the situation your Thedas is in now.”

Hawke's brain was so caught up with putting his old red armor and paint and golden earrings on him to finish the picture that it took her a second to catch onto what had been said. “Corypheus would have done what he has, just at a different location. There is no corrupt Knight-Commander ruining Kirkwall now. The mages aren't being abused there. Lowtown has been brought under considerable watch. The Chantry is trying to rebuild with awareness of how corrupt the previous one was, and so is under scrutiny of the city. Even Varric has ideas to help turn the economy around when he gets out of the Inquisition.”

That made Ash reconsider and resume his pacing a little. Finally he stopped and looked right at her, his questions surprising all of them. His chest heaved a bit as he quietly asked, “Is this...marriage what you wish for? Forget the rest of it. What do you want and why?”

A beautiful smile came to life on her lips as she looked at him. “It's not necessary for us to validate ourselves, no, but...if we go back? Yes. I would like it. I want to know you're safe and protected for not being human. I want to know my son is secure. And I do not want to consider any more human marriage proposals.”

Maker, she'd not thought about that last point very well. Mistake.

Ash stormed over, a growl rumbling in his chest. “ _What_ do you refer to?”

“Oh, you know. Just...other men asking to marry me for the last few years. Probably got a stack of the letters back home that I've not seen in a few months,” Hawke shrugged it off and finished drinking her tea. “Obviously I want nothing to do with them. Before...before Mother died she was very insistent that I consider each one sent to me. There were...several then. Even when I knew you. She held correspondence on my behalf with suitors.”

Ash impressively glared. “Other males have been pursuing you?”

“Um...yes.”

“How many, Hawke?”

Fenris snorted and stuck his face in his cup. Bethany looked away conveniently. Hawke glared at both of them, sighing, “Well...some.”

“Ten proposals before we left, twenty the year before, and those are only counting nobility. Some in years before that, but the exact number eludes me. Without nobles? I think half the Hanged Man has proposed to her; mind you most were drunk, but probably wouldn't regret waking up with that accomplished,” Fenris bluntly stated and earned an apple thrown at his face. He ducked, catching it barely in time. “Maker, Hawke!”

“Damn,” she cursed and grabbed another one.

Ash slammed a fist down on the counter, shaking everything on it. He alternated between being angry, frustrated, and...proud. “You...did not want these men?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he demanded, but his tone was curious.

Hawke sat the apple in her hand down and slid her fingers up around his neck. “Because _they weren't_ a mighty Arishok always keeping me on my toes, looking intimidating and gorgeous on his dais.”

A very smug, very pleased smile stole over Ash's lips. “Mm.”

“All right, you two. Out back if you must,” Fenris snickered and started eating the apple in his hand.

Bethany flushed. “Fenris!”

“Bethany, you stroke a Qunari's ego...you might as well be touching other things.”

“Maker, elf, you're terrible!”

Ash broke into a chuckle, one hand sliding down to Hawke's waist. “My _kadan_ is wanted by other human males. This...marriage would prevent their attempts?”

“Yep. They'd have to stop sending proposals or face social backlash. Legal implications, too—you'd have rights to kick their asses without being arrested as much,” Hawke grinned, hugging his neck and stepping up on her toes. “I certainly won't be getting anymore social invitations, which is a _blessing_. My neighbors might panic about having a Qunari around at first, but they'll get used to it. You'll scare off more thieves, and they'll notice.”

“You truly wish to go there? For all this, Hawke?”

“Yes, to at least try and see. If it doesn't work, we'd leave, no question,” she whispered near his face. “But not if you don't. I won't pressure you, Ash. I know how bad your experience was. I _trust_ you, and I want you safe and comfortable as much as I want the same for myself and this child.”

The Qunari stared down at her, his hand on her belly rubbing her there. Briefly his gold eyes flicked around the room before landing on her again. Then, rather dramatically, he sighed. “Fine.”

“Really?” she asked excitedly.

“If it will keep you safe, keep our _imekari_ safe.” Ash leaned closer, nose rubbing hers. “If it will please _you_.”

“I _so_ adore you, you beautiful man.”

“I know. It is your duty.”

Hawke laughed and kissed him, an excited squeak coming out of her as he lifted her up and held her close. “Thank you, _kadan_ , for giving it a chance. If you're not comfortable, we'll do whatever else we can.”

“You realize this means I shall have a Qunari for a brother-in-law.” Bethany giggled, tapping her jaw. “What scandal. Carver would have had a right fit, Camilla. Father would have probably laughed his head off.”

“Imagine Mother's face, Bethany,” Hawke cackled from her spot against Ash's chest as he held her. “I can almost hear her. 'Camilla, you _can't_ be serious. Will he even fit in the _door_?'”

“I'll say it again, Hawke, I don't know how he _fits_ in any way,” Fenris chuckled at her as she turned red again.

Ash frowned a second, then saw her blush and smirked. “It is...very pleasurable.”

 _“Ash!”_ Hawke's face was hot.

Her gray love ducked back as Hawke reached for his horns, laughing. Hawke enjoyed the happiness in his face that he didn't hide. She just felt so much...relief! So much excitement to go home to her tub and her bed and share it all with him.

With a cheeky grin she said loudly enough for her sister and friend to hear, her maid thankfully outside for a moment to give them privacy, “If I weren't carrying your growing son, I'd take you on this floor.”

“Camilla!” Bethany gasped loudly behind her.

Ash's eyes lit up for a moment before he shook his head and nuzzled his brow to hers. “You are happy, Hawke.”

“You bet your sexy arse.” Hawke laughed and cupped his face in her hands. “And I do mean that. _Maker,_ you have a nice bum. So curvy.”

“I am now leaving before I vomit,” Fenris joked and pushed off the counter, tossing the apple core at her and missing widely as he went outside.

 


	33. All Aboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

 

Ash watched Hawke hesitantly touch her sister's shoulder. They stood near the stables, completely packed. Even Bethany, who'd given her resignation to the shop owner. The sister smiled sadly at his mate and hugged Hawke to her. “I will miss you. Please write. I will come home when the baby comes.”

“I will, Bethany. Be sure you give Varric my love, okay?” Hawke sighed into Bethany's neck. “And Bull and Dorian. You'll meet them. We liked them a lot.”

“I'll try to remember, Camilla.”

Fenris brought out his horse and the one Lumia used; they'd decided to let him escort Bethany to the Hinterlands Inquisition camps so she'd get her way back from there with scouts, then the elf would return to them in Kirkwall before going to Seheron. Hawke would ride with Ash on the stallion, Lumia on her mare to keep those horses paired and take the ferry to Kirkwall.

Hawke hugged Fenris, the elf looking at once up to Ash and relaxing when he saw the approval there. If the elf could change and respect, Ash could respect him for it.

To his surprise Bethany came toward him, finger pointing harshly in his chest armor. “You take _care_ of my sister! No more arguing, no fights. Got it, Qunari? I'll set you on fire if you don't. _Everything_ burns.”

He stared at her threat in her heated eyes. Ash could easily kill this mage, but she would put up a nice fight with magic.

Hawke smiled and shook her head. “It'll be fine, Bethany.”

“Had better be. If he's to be proper family, you'd better be treated well.”

“As a queen,” Ash softly spoke. It was honestly how he _did_ treat Hawke, especially after realizing his rutting had taken. “She is my equal. _Kadan_.”

“Right. As a queen.” Bethany seemed satisfied as she shot him a quick smile and mounted the smaller mare.

Fenris reached forward, shook his hand, and reminded them that he'd be possibly a week or so behind their arrival. Ash nodded and watched the elf mount up, both riders looking back and waving at Hawke before taking off out of the gate. Ash's eyes instantly riveted to his beloved female, watching as she stayed strong, but the sadness settled in her eyes. With a small grunt, he tapped her waist. “We must go to the ferry, if you haven't changed your mind.”

That got her attention. Hawke cleared the sadness from her face and smiled excitedly. “Let's go!”

Ash made sure all of their belongings were securely strapped as Lumia climbed upon Hawke's mare, nodding her readiness. Satisfied, Ash settled upon the big black stallion, waiting until it calmed a moment before bending over the side and lifting Hawke up under her arms; he sat her sideways before him on the saddle, one arm keeping her to his chest as the other took the reigns.

They rode at a steady pace, Ash taking paths Hawke directed him down with Lumia following closely behind. Ash had to admit to himself that he _enjoyed_ riding with her against him. He felt...more like himself, how he used to feel. Powerful. Strong. And her words that morning praising him physically had also been good...perfect, even. No matter what happened with Kirkwall, Ash would conquer it—just perhaps on a personal level. In the city where Hawke reigned as a sort of queen herself, he would be her king. He, a Qunari, would live with her in noble human residency, raise their son and hope their situation would stay safe while the world struggled around them. Ash smiled as Hawke's giggle hit his ears over the wind while she enjoyed the ride.

After nearly an hour of riding intermixed with long stops for Hawke to piss, they came upon the ferry service. Ash slowed the stallion, walking the magnificent beast toward the small line of people booking tickets. Several people gasped at him, pointing. Children hid behind their fathers and mothers in fear. Ash just rolled his eyes and helped Hawke off the stallion before he swung off it after her. She stormed over, glaring at the people staring at them; thankfully she was wearing her covering clothing again.

A topside dwarf with a small black beard was running the line and upon seeing Hawke shouted her name. Ash tugged the reigns in his hand, pulling the stallion behind him as he followed her closer, Lumia behind. Hawke grinned and shook the dwarf's hand. “Henric! Good to see you. I need three tickets for passage to Kirkwall. Higher level with two rooms. And boarding for two horses. Fresh oats and hay daily.”

“Let's see what we've got here,” the dwarf nodded, stroking his black beard as he perused the open book in front of him. “Done. For you, Hawke.”

“You're a darling. Thank you.”

The people standing nearby whispered amongst themselves as the dwarf called for someone to replace him and exchanged coin with her. Hawke followed him, the rest following her, toward the ferry itself. Henric chuckled as Hawke got near him. “You _just_ made it, you know.”

“I'm good like that.”

“Indeed you are, Hawke.” Henric stopped, gazed over the horses, then nodded. “Horses first. They'll be tended to, I promise. Got a new stable boy from Ferelden on board. He's got a knack with them.”

“Very appreciated, Henric. They were gifts from the Inquisitor for aiding him.”

“In that case, double the oats.” Henric waved Ash to come forward with the stallion, crossing a huge plank of heavy wood onto the boat. The horse panicked a little as it smelled the water around, but Ash gave the reigns a yank and patted its muzzle, encouraging it. Finally he had it on board. Lumia struggled with the mare behind him until Hawke cooed and got the horse to follow her on board instead. A younger human male was summoned, and Ash watched him respectfully saunter up to the stallion, instantly calming the horse. Impressed, Ash handed the kid the reigns and moved to unstrap their belongings from both horses while Hawke conferred with the dwarf about their rooms.

“This way,” Hawke said, tapping his arm as she grabbed a small bag he handed her and carried the rest himself. Lumia stepped to his left, large eyes circling around at the animals and width of the ferry.

It made Ash miss his own ships, the great warships. Maybe this was the right idea. He'd at least get to be on water for a few days of travel. No riding, no camping, just relaxing and watching for thieves.

He followed Hawke and the dwarf down a floor and some narrow halls until Henric stopped and gestured to both sides of him. “Single bed to the right, double to the left. You'll be served breakfast and dinner. Lunch is for rations.”

“Better than the first time I took this passage,” Hawke murmured, looking at the dwarf. “I was in the slave hold.”

The dwarf bowed his head in apology. “That is now strictly used for cargo, Champion.”

“It had better be,” Hawke warned and thanked him for his help.

Ash frowned after her, entering in the double bed room and setting their things down on the floor. “Why were you in the slave hold?”

“We were refugees of the Blight. No money, no belongings.” Hawke shrugged and sat the bag she carried down, then moved over and pressed on the bed with her hand. “Sturdy. Bolted in, I think.”

Ash looked the meager sheets and blankets over, shook his head and unrolled their bedrolls to lay overtop the old mattress. The furs came out after that. “Acceptable,” he grunted finally as he eyed the bed again.

“I'm starting to wonder if you'll replace my own bedding at home with our furs,” she teased and sat upon them, sighing. “I'm hungry.”

“Lunch. Rations.” Ash kneeled before the food pack and dug inside, shifting until he found the jerky she liked, along with a small slice of cheese and a scrap of bread. Hawke took them from him, nibbling right away and making him smile as he turned for the wineskin. His son was growing, demanding more food each day, it seemed. While she ate he grabbed his own snack and savored the jerky, surprised that he was in such a good mood. A day ago he'd been so frustrated that he hadn't known what to do...but it got better after he'd had some space and time to think, to accept her apologies and move on, especially with her words after. He still worried at the responsibilities coming, hoping to know what they all were before he failed them. When he'd crawled onto the cushions behind her last night, Ash knew then he'd made the right decision the moment she was in his arms.

But she hadn't missed a breath, not Hawke. Within the morning she'd convinced _him_ to give Kirkwall a shot. If _that_ wasn't proof of his devotion, nothing would be enough.

Hawke finished her food and rose up to check on Lumia across the hall. Ash swallowed the last of the jerky down, took a long swig of his Seheron whiskey Bull had given him, and debated taking his armor off to relax. The ferry was to sail within the hour, and once it did he'd have only their rooms or the deck to roam. After considering for a while, Ash undid the straps on his armor, sliding the armguards and chest piece off, leaving the leg armor on at least for a bit longer in case. He sat his weapons on the rack built into the wall and wrinkled his nose. They would need tended while they were on the ferry. Hawke came back into their room, arched brows up as she took him in.

“What?” he asked, feeling smug as she practically drooled. His ego _did_ enjoy her attention, after all.

“You did this on purpose,” she huffed as she slid the door shut behind her. Hawke ignored him a moment and went to the other wall; their room was on the side of the ferry and had a small window that she opened to get some fresh air. Then she turned and eyed him with a slight shake of her golden hair. “Maker, you are perfection.”

Ash smiled sensually and sat upon the bed, watching her stare at him. He'd taken her that morning in the tiny backyard, right against the wall of Denerim itself. But as he looked over her, watched her with baited breath as she pulled off the outer layer that covered her belly from others' eyes, Ash groaned. Her heavy breasts pressed into the fabric holding them, her beautiful rounding belly bare for him to see; he had to admit her swelling stomach turned very deep, very instinctual parts of him on like the Qunari black powder with its explosive nature. Had some part of him always known she would be so eye-catching under that spiky armor?

To know that she was _his_ , that many males had been vying for her attention and received nothing from her because she'd chosen _him_ for so long was...humbling. And not so humbling. Ash grinned and opened his arms. “Come.”

Hawke smirked and danced a little toward him, keeping just out of reach. “Want something, Ash?”

“Closer,” he rumbled, feeling his maleness straining against the leathers.

Her brown eyes were warm on him as she sauntered closer, then jumped back a little as he grabbed for her. “Oh good. I've not completely lost my touch with the baby starting to throw off my balance.”

“ _Hawke_ ,” he groaned, smiling when she finally came into his arms' reach and let him pull her to his chest. Ash looked over her, sighing in contentment as she kissed him, her arms coming around his neck. His tongue slid past her lips, tasting the spice of the jerky. With ease he lifted her over his lap, holding her steady, loving the feel of that growing belly against his skin. Hawke moaned into him, lithe hips grinding her warmth against him in the leathers.

A sudden rapid knock on their door had him growling in frustration. Hawke quickly climbed off of him and reached for her second layer of clothing. Ash rolled his eyes, waited until she was dressed, made sure his weapons were right within reach, and yanked open the door. The human lad he'd seen earlier paled upon looking up at him.

Ash waited, brow raised. The kid shifted nervously. “The horses have been brushed and secured. We leave shore in five minutes.”

“Thank you. Be sure they get extra care. I paid for it,” Hawke said behind him, smiling. The boy's eyes almost doubled in size as he looked to her in the room, then back up at Ash with his bare chest. With an embarrassed murmur, the kid took off down the hall in a brisk walk.

Ash snickered and shut the door, turning as Hawke laughed. She didn't laugh for long, though, because he immediately picked her up and took her to the bed, his hands stripping her of her clothes while his mouth opened over her throat. He'd not lied to her—her body was growing fuller, and he _enjoyed_ it. Palms filled with her round backside, then her heavy breasts before sliding some fingers between her legs, finding that slickness always there for him.

She attacked his pants impatiently, nearly breaking the cords that tied the front as she removed his leg armor. Ash grinned above her, thrusting a little as one of her hands slid purposefully over him, tracing his shape and rubbing hotly. Damn it all, he should have taken her that night in the compound and let everyone hear how satisfied he made her, how much she relieved him.

Alas.

He stepped out of the remaining armor and pants after removing his boots. Hawke was fully naked on the furs in front of him by that moment, on her back and breathing a little heavily so her breasts lifted strongly and fell with each intake. In times like this she reminded him of the wine the Iron Bull had shared that Hawke had loved so much—strong, but very warm, like a lover's embrace in its hint of sweetness and possession. Looking at her made him ache for a desert home with her; he'd loved being in the Western Approach by her side.

Ash tended to her, desiring to maximize her pleasure and satisfy the urges inside of him. Instinctively and rationally he knew at some point, possibly very soon, they'd have to stop mating for the baby's sake until their son was born; their sex was usually not _gentle_ by any means. And Ash was _not_ looking forward to the months of being denied her heated warmth around his cock. His sharp teeth teased along her neck and clavicle, tongue lapping at her breast seductively.

The sudden idea to treat the moment as though it _were_ that night in the compound hit him like a thrown spear. Ash closed his eyes a second, instantly going back into that event: He saw himself standing near the fire, noticing how it reflected in her pupils as she looked up at him. When she stepped up to kiss him, Ash bent down and kissed her on the furs, soft at first, then demanding. But he didn't back away, like he didn't in the reunion at Skyhold. He braced himself over her, glad the bed seemed to be holding his weight well. Eyes opened to find her staring up at him, her gorgeous feminine mouth parted while her nails drug into his hair and neck with want.

“Ash,” she whispered softly.

He swallowed the sudden rush of feelings, holding them back long enough to explore her body again with his mouth and hands as if it were the first time. Ash was careful and thorough, leaving no part of her untouched. Teeth nipped her hipbone before his tongue swirled over her growing belly and he bent his face, pushing her legs to bring her knees up. He closed his eyes once more as he tasted her, enjoying the flavor that was Hawke. She moaned beneath him, small little pants that she tried to smother into the rest of the ship's sounds. Ash licked at her, tongue inserting itself inside of her a few times, until he felt she was beyond raw and sensitive. A pad of a finger rubbed the small, sensitive spot above her opening, and Hawke came apart, knees clenching as much as possible around him while he smiled down at her.

Without doubt, if he'd taken her that night, she would have never left her back or stomach, depending on his mood. Or his tent. Ash would have controlled the mating with his rough, held back need for so long.

With the baby he'd found mating her from behind on their sides to be most comfortable and easiest, but...he wanted to look at her face, see her allow his possession. As concerned as he was to put her on her belly at all, Ash kept her on her back, lifting her legs to his chest as he rose up and lined against her body. Hawke grunted and swatted at his arm, hands reaching between them to stroke him pleasantly. Horns tilted back, jaw slightly opening as she worked her own brand of magic in her touch, making him throb for her.

He lowered his face back down and nuzzled her foot. “Let go.”

Hawke obeyed with a lick of her lips. The sight gave him a rush, making him remember how it felt to have her mouth around him _there,_ how damn amazing it had been and how it had nearly broken his control. Ash brushed against her once before he pushed forward, trying to be both gentle and firm so as to not hurt her or the _imekari_ somehow. Hawke groaned like a woman who'd had been given water after weeks of scorching thirst, the sound so guttural and pleased. Ash smiled and thrust, enjoying how well her body had long since begun accommodating his size.

Deep, satisfied rumbles vibrated his chest. Their eyes connected while he dropped her legs enough to cup under her thighs in support before bracing himself once more over her body. With his left forearm supporting his weight, back arched a little to keep his chest from pressing to her belly more than a feather's touch, his right hand slid down and lifted her hip as he thrust again and again and again.

If this were the compound, he'd have done much like he had at Skyhold—gripped her hard and rocked into her until she was ready to scream; only there, he'd have encouraged her screams to allow all to know his prowess.

Hawke whimpered a little in her enjoyment, a little plea for more that he'd come to know very well. With a knowing smile, he kissed her once, whispering, “ _Kadan_.”

Ash kept a steady rhythm, wanting to slide in at a deeper angle, but unsure it would be safe. Hawke threw her arms around his neck, lips tending to his jaw, chin and his mouth before sucking on his earlobe. He hissed through his teeth, a tight moan of approval, while his speed picked up a bit as he enjoyed the warmth around him inside of her. She got wetter, slicker for him in her desire, and Ash felt like a _bas_ god as he took her.

The rutting had been _amazing_ sex for him, constantly rough and dominating; never before had it included the emotions he'd been wrought with as he'd come inside of her again and again—that level of feeling complete, united, confirmed in existence. This was...different. He was still in control, but not to the point of rough playing or challenging one another. Ash supposed that for sentimental humans this was what that “making love” act felt like because the longer he looked down into her eyes, his mouth unable to close at this point as he grunted and moaned heavily, he felt every strong emotion, every pulse she'd ever created in him, beat hard inside his chest.

Hawke dropped her head back against the furs, teeth biting her fuller, reddened lower lip. Her voice crossed between mewling and moaning at him. “Ahh! Ash! Ugh, Maker, you're so _good,_ love!”

“Yes, _kadan_. That's it,” he urged her at the signal; he relentlessly alternated between thrusts, biting on her neck and squeezing her ass in his right hand.

Suddenly she tightened below him, fingers gripping into his muscles so tightly her nails managed to even break little parts of the skin on his shoulders while her inner walls compressed upon him. She called his name softly, extending the sound of it for several seconds until it faded in a sigh. Ash absorbed it, imprinting it to memory as he paused for her to breathe, resuming his pace once she looked up at him in that wonder her beautiful dark eyes often held after her climax.

“ _Umph_ ,” he grunted, feeling her intentionally squeeze him inside as her eyes sparkled.

Hawke grinned tiredly. “Your turn, my love.”

“Mm.... _mmmmph_ ,” Ash growled, hips pushing all the way in once before retracting back to a mostly filling thrust. She was perfect—warm, wet and all around him. His eyes flicked over her as his breathing hitched, soft groans ripping from his throat while his hips bucked, the rhythm beginning to change. “H-Hawke!”

“ _Yes_ , love!”

He growled low, unable to even resort to words. Then his orgasm was blindingly close, hips twitching as he slid rapidly in and out of her, until she huffed and clenched around him once more. Ash dropped his heavy head and roared mutely into the furs next to her hair, feeling the release get pulled from him powerfully. He spent himself in her, thrust more at feeling himself still very hard, and came briefly again in quick succession; it left him in complete awe of such a thing, turning to brush his lips over her cheekbone as he panted.

“I love you,” she said, still catching her own breath. “I always have, since the first second I saw you sitting on that damn dais, powerful as fuck and glaring at me. I know that makes me insane, but...it's true.”

Ash chuckled against her, remembering clearly the first moment he'd ever seen her: Hawke had approached the dais, the Fenris elf with her along with some other companion. His guards had unnerved the group already, but Ash had known then to set the tone that within the compound _his_ rule was law—that of the Qun, not human mockery from the city around them. So he'd stared over them as they'd approached, then his eyes had solely focused on Hawke herself. She'd had dust blown a bit across her cheek from the sandy parts of the Lowtown pier area, her hair swinging in its usual tie. Brown eyes had been wide on him, scanning him from the tops of his horns to the heels of his boots in a slow, measured look of appreciation. Her mouth had dropped open without her knowledge. He'd, naturally, just been mildly intrigued at seeing that it was this _thin, small_ human in front of him that he'd been hearing reports about daring to eye him like a rutting female. She looked like she could be snapped in half without care, and he'd continued thinking so until she'd shown her strength and stood her ground in the initial discussion. There had been surprise, more intrigue, and eventual curiosity on his part.

But during none of that would he have ever believed she'd already grown feelings for him.

Ash snickered as he slid out of her slowly, still braced away from her stomach, both of them enjoying the last tease of them together. He rolled onto his side to look at her. Claws brushed stray hair from her cheek and forehead as he teased, “That _is_ insane.”

“I couldn't help it. I mean, I didn't _know_ that's what I was feeling, but....” Hawke blushed deeply, fingers reaching over to hold his. “I started dreaming about you often. I'd come to the compound, we'd talk, then you...would suddenly smirk at me and almost kiss me, but I'd wake up. It drove me _beyond_ mad for a while.”

She'd dreamed of him? Good to know he'd poisoned her mind as much, and even more so than she had his. His grin slowly spread. “I consumed your thoughts, Hawke?”

“All the bloody time. I'd get so fucking nervous to see you again, then you'd inevitably say something and annoy me, and I'd get back into this weird...state you often put me in during conversation—a mixture of annoyance, fear and bravado.”

“That sounds...right,” he murmured, going through memories to listen to her voice in the past. Ash leaned forward and pressed his brow to hers, resting comfortably so his right hand could reach across and stroke her shoulder. “You were always my female.”

Hawke snorted with a laugh. “Oh yes, well before you knew it. I once thought I could be brave enough to go to the Blooming Rose and demand a tall, built lover to get the fantasy out of my system, or even seduce one of the other Qunari males, but the night the idea occurred to me, I had a dream. In it you had tied me to one of the beams around the compound, personal guards of yours watching, and you'd smirked at me, whispering close in my ear, 'Nothing can ever imitate me, Hawke. Only I am truth.' Of course, I woke out of that and _never_ went to the Rose, just wanted to skin myself the next time I saw you and got all antsy, and you stared at me like I was crazy.”

He leaned back as his brows rose high. Already he felt through his exhausted state the arousal fighting to wake again. With a smirk, he stroked down to her breast, cupping it in his hand. “Very true words from...myself. How...often were you given such dreams?”

“Fairly often,” she admitted softly, her fingers on his chest moving to rest above his heart. Hawke glanced up to his eyes, smiling warmly. “You have always been this...sun blinding all around you, burning those in your path that disobeyed and warming those who listened. Gorgeous. I never expected to have a fetish for you sitting down, hands on your knees, and frowning. Or you pacing strongly, hands held up as you spoke. But I do. Maker, it makes me _hot_.”

“This is very...pleasing,” he teased, completely smug about it. His very _presence_ had been enough to make her ache with want in the past, that power he'd wielded so well—yet another sign.

“What about you, Ash? Any fetish or dreams or such?”

The question was slightly timidly asked, as if she were afraid she'd be shown to be so different in yet another fashion between them. Ash rubbed his thumb over her nipple, then dropped his hand to rest on her belly. He sighed, thinking as he spoke. “You tested my patience often.”

“Well, I know that.”

“No, Hawke,” he countered, settling more comfortably on his side. “I knew you wanted me. It...emanated from you. The guards found it entertaining, as I've said. But you never...declared it. You never approached my seat and begged me for release only I could apparently grant you.”

Brows lifting, she asked, “And this tested your patience?”

He tapped their heads together gently. “Hawke, I'd not had a female of my own decision. Yes, on long journeys I could choose the healer assigned to me, but...if I'd granted you what you wished, if I'd chosen to grant myself the same release, it would have been different. You were not Qunari or part of the Qun at all, but I found you...worthy.”

“Did you like my visits for that, too?”

“Yes...yet it was frustrating. I had to remain above it.”

“I understand,” she quietly replied, pulling closer to him. “Just lucky I got you at all.”

“As I am.”

“I wish I could have....”

Ash shook his head, cheek brushing the fur roughly. “No. No regrets, no mourning over events we cannot change.”

“But you...you were harmed. Alone.”

“Yes.”

“I'm so sorry.”

He sniffed her tears before he saw them. Ash sighed and brushed his nose to hers. “ _Parshaara_ ,” he whispered without harshness. “During...some of the worst...my mind would bring your face to me. I would...escape.”

Hawke studied him, eyes moving rapidly in her emotion; her grip on him tightened in response. “I'm glad I could help at all.”

“You did.”

“What would you think about?”

“Speaking with you. Wondering what you looked like without your armor. Dragging you into my tent the evening you dared kiss me.”

“Why...didn't you?” she asked very curiously.

Ash grunted above her, fingers dancing over her belly. “Too much...thought. You were distraction, poison to controlled purpose. And...even though my body demanded to take you, I knew if I did that...that everything would change. It wouldn't be as a visit to a healer for me. It would be a branding, stealing my reason. I would possess you and refuse you exit until I felt satisfied that you'd been as ravaged as I was and hated me, until I _owned_ Kirkwall's favored rogue.”

“So I really did weigh on your mind, huh,” Hawke teased gently. 

“I've never loathed and respected a single individual so much. _Desired_ a single female so much. You were a unique challenge to conquer.”

“Oh? So you've conquered me, have you?”

Ash grinned and teased his claws across her belly. “You carry proof you cannot refute.”

“Hm. And did you dream of me?”

He smiled above her knowingly. “On rare occasion. You frustrated even then, asking ridiculous questions or testing my patience.”

Hawke snickered, snuggled into him. “I love that I dug into you so deep. It's good to know I wasn't the only one feeling insane.”

“You weren't. My first dream of you was not long before your kiss on me by the fire,” he confessed, resettling his face to see her expression. “I just remember mating in it with some female in my tent. It was...particularly satisfying for some reason, similar to feelings of glorious victory in battle. When I'd realized it was _you_ I was mating, when you looked over your shoulder in it....”

“Woke up all kinds of annoyed, huh, love.”

Ash broke out in a dark grin. “Furious. I believe I refused you entrance the next time you wished to meet with me, putting it off a day or two.”

“Well. I actually remember that. Not nice of you. I was still brave enough to face you with all my dreams,” she countered with a risen brow.

His female had an excellent point, _but_. Ash slightly shook his head. “It was for your protection as well as to spare me.”

“My protection?” Hawke wondered with a light frown.

“I'd woken with...frustration. Had I seen you after, it is likely I'd have had you come talk privately in my tent, then cornered you there. Or had you stripped there at the dais, had your companions forced out, and kept you prisoner.”

“Ooh.”

“Hawke, that is _not_ meant as a good thing. I could have lost control and harmed you deeply. I only had respect for your respect at that point, not...emotions. I would have _used_ you, and in my anger at needing you, cast you out of my favor after...even if it would bring regret.”

“Yes, well. That's all very terrible, but there is one thing: You underestimate how much I wanted you.”

Ash felt the smirk before it showed visibly. “Hawke.”

She happily shrugged into him, her eyes closing to rest. “Maybe part of my soul knew you were mine somehow.”

“Whatever you wish, Hawke.”

“'S'right, love.”

“Hm-hm.” Ash chuckled very quietly, more of a vibration than a laugh, and kissed her brow. Her dedication was inspiring. “My little _viddathari_.”

“Mm-hm,” she sleepily agreed while he loved her belly with his palm.

“Rest well, _kadan_ ,” he murmured into her ear, holding her close with her belly between them. “Our journey is still only beginning.”  
  
  


 


	34. Stay Scary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke's amassed a lot of loot wealth over the years to generously spend on her home, family, and helpers. And Merc is a lovely addition with his humor.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

Oh, she was sick. So terribly sea sick.

Hawke had struggled with it a slight bit in the cramped slave quarters without sustenance and rough seas when leaving Lothering, but this was different. She felt dizzy by the swaying, rather than grounded as Ash seemed to feel. Each harsh rock made her grip her stomach and hope. Her Qunari love looked worried, though he hid it well, only showing it as he always touched her when she looked ill. It was the roughest physical days of traveling they ironically had ever had together, at least for her.

On the third evening she woke to the ship pitching a bit rough, some thunder outside the window startling her slightly. Hawke groaned, feeling her dinner shifting, and begged silently that Andraste have mercy on her. But, it wasn't to be, at least not that time. She lunged out of Ash's sleeping hold and to the floor, catching herself on her arms securely as she snagged the nearby bucket and vomited.

Ash was immediately awake, shifting on the bed behind her and creaking it as he got up. Strong hands rubbed her back and held her sides as the ship rocked a bit, keeping her still while she emptied her stomach. Hawke heaved until there was nothing left in her, her head pounding like the storm outside. She whimpered a little, absolutely hating the feeling; give her a dagger cut any day over this crap.

As soon as she finished, she pushed the horrific-smelling bucket away, apologizing softly to him behind her for his sensitive nose being struck by it. Ash snorted and reached for the water-filled wineskin, handing it to her as she pushed herself up wobbly arms to sit on the floor against him. “It is without fault, Hawke. Drink.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, guzzling and swishing and spitting half of it back into the bucket. Hawke went to ask him a question, but the ship really pitched, and even the animals could be heard panicking momentarily. Her stomach rolled again, and this time she dry heaved for a few moments. Then, with another drink from the skin, sighed. “I'm...I'm okay. I've nothing left in me, but I'm okay.”

“Do not move. I will summon the elf. You must be tended to with medicine.”

At the thought of foul tasting medicine or teas, Hawke automatically felt her stomach lurch. “Maybe we should...all just...sit tight...and....”

“No.”

His favorite word, she swore her life on it.

Hawke looked up, pale and sweating as Ash forced his way strongly to the door in what could barely be called breeches, yanking it open and stepping out for a few moments. Seconds later he reemerged, Lumia behind him looking beyond concerned as she clutched a little bag in her hands and carefully walked to where Hawke was curled on the floor near the bed.

“Poor Mistress. This is terrible.” Lumia frowned, opened the satchel, and pulled out a vial with some herbs. Hawke watched the elf pluck the topper, sort through the plant material until she came up with a single leaf, and handed it to her. “Chew. It will settle your stomach enough until the boat calms and more can be done.”

“What is it?” Hawke asked, noticing Ash narrow his eyes behind her and sniffing. It smelled minty to her.

Lumia resealed the vial and put it back in the satchel. “It's a type of plant found in Orlais, popular for ladies carrying babies in case of sickness. Solas said it is best served with tea, but...given the circumstances....”

The boat rocked again as the elf trailed off, and they all held on until it calmed and leveled. Hawke noticed Ash grab the bucket of her sick and walk out, one hand braced against the wall. She sighed and chewed the leaf, enjoying its minty taste and how it slightly numbed her a little. Lumia sat with her, looking over her pale face with concern and patting her with a small towel.

“Thank you, Lumia,” Hawke murmured with a small smile. “You're wonderful. Hiring you was the right thing to do.”

“I'm only glad to help,” Lumia smiled back gently. “Solas was...very kind in protecting me from the noble, and you were always much gentler than the others expected.”

“Reputations aren't always truths.”

“Yes.”

“Just so you know, you will be paid as soon as we arrive home. You will get pay weekly, and you will have your own nice bedroom for privacy,” Hawke explained. “How much were you paid before?”

“Mistress, I'm not sure I should say...?”

Hawke patted the elf's arm. “It's all right. How much?”

“My highest was five silvers a month, in the form of silvers and coppers broken down into weekly stipends for needs...that pleased my employer,” the elf replied, wringing her hands a little. “But that...that was in Orlais, under a distant relative of the Empress, and it was expected because of the favor the noble held for...elves and...and what we...wore. Please, do not worry. I will be happy with whatever you deem enough.”

“Sounds like you got maybe a silver for _yourself_ in that ordeal, and I know how expensive Orlais is to live in. Well now you get the full five a month for yourself, at the least, and likely more with you being my only help. We can discuss it when we get settled, and I check my books. Save it, spend it on whatever you wish. I'll pay for anything the household needs separately.”

“Mistress!” Lumia's pretty eyes almost came out of her head. “But...that's!”

“Trust me, there are plenty of merchants and goods you will find exciting in Kirkwall. I'd rather you have the extra in case of anything happening anyway, and I'll keep the rate as long as I can afford it.” Hawke sighed and leaned her head back against the bed, feeling the furs under her neck. “I'm going to be so damn glad to be home. You'll love it, Lumia.”

“Thank you, Mistress. You've been so generous. I...I don't know how to...repay you,” Lumia whispered as the storm quieted finally. The woman looked sincerely worried about imagined debts.

Hawke shook her head gently, still chewing the leaf. “Don't think of it. You'll have a roof and a job, and so long as we get along splendidly and you complete duties—mostly cooking or cleaning if I need the help—then we shall work a nice system between us. Keep in mind my household once had a steward and a servant, plus the steward's son. You'll be busy just with us, so you'll be earning that silver fairly easily, see? Don't fret, though, I'll be sure you've time for yourself to relax and do as you wish. You are no slave, Lumia.”

“Thank you. I will do my best, Mistress Hawke.”

“I believe it.”

Ash's loud steps echoed down the tight hall outside before he reappeared with the bucket, both absolutely soaked. Water dripped from him, his hair stuck to his bare chest and pants practically _glued_ to his legs. Hawke tried to stand, but he held a palm out, stopping her. Her love took a few steps in, noticed Lumia still sitting patiently, and bent to a knee before Hawke, one hand at her chin. “How do you feel?” he softly asked.

“Better. I promise. The leaf is helping calm my stomach as she explained.”

“Good.” Ash gave Lumia a brief nod of approval, and Hawke almost smiled at seeing the poor servant's look of relief. Her man was still absolutely intimidating to others. He flicked his eyes over her, then picked her up to rest her on the bed. “Rest, _kadan._ Could you eat?”

“I don't know. Give me a little while, then we'll try rations.”

“Acceptable.”

Lumia rose and bowed her pretty face, smiling at Hawke. “I will return to my room. Please let me know if you need anything else. I will make you a tea.”

“Of course. Thank you, Lumia,” Hawke smiled, dismissing the servant and watching her quietly leave with the small bag.

Ash sniffed over Hawke's face, water dropping off his horns and brow to her. “You trust the medicine?”

“It's helping so far. I believe she genuinely wants to help.”

“We shall see,” he grunted quietly and grabbed for the towel Lumia had left, wiping himself off a bit.

Hawke helped him dry his back, wishing she felt better as he removed his wet pants and hung them on a built in rack. “You have suspicions?”

“I always have suspicions, Hawke,” he replied with a slight look, then joined her on the bed with a small set of rations in case she hungered and felt like eating.

“Thanks for getting rid of...the, um.”

“It is no matter.”

Hawke sighed and snuggled against him; despite his former wetness, he radiated heat. Ash kept a firm arm around her as he settled the furs above them, lips to her damp brow.

 

 

[---------------------------]

 

 

Though for many passengers it was nothing, the ship arrival was momentous for him. Hawke knew it, felt it in his subtle signs of agitation as they packed and retrieved the horses for quartering outside in the city stables. Hawke took deep breaths, tasting ocean air and sand and all that made Kirkwall itself and felt something inside of her relax for the first time in a long time. Home, for what it was worth.

Hawke's first order of business was hiring some men to take their belongings to her home. Ash silently followed her into the gates to speak with registration, a giant catching a few eyes and skirting others. They were in luck, though. Hawke immediately recognized one of the guardsmen taking note of arrivals and grinned. “Donnic! Ah, Maker, good to see your face.”

Donnic snapped his dark head up, stared at her in puzzlement, and then approached as he realized she wasn't vanishing like some illusion. He smiled a little with a bow. “Lady Hawke, welcome home.”

“Glad to be home, Donnic. Alert your wife that I need to speak with her immediately. I also need some help getting my things home and stabling for two horses.”

“Done.” Donnic jerked his head, getting some excited grunts running his way. Quickly he summarized orders, softly speaking as always over the darting glances the men made toward Hawke in their shock to see her. When they took some silvers and the animals' reigns away, vowing to return with parchments and a litter, Hawke nodded silently. Donnic's eyes had bounced up to Ash's narrow expression with mild concern. “Friend of yours?”

Hawke tilted her face. She'd hated what had been done to get into Denerim, and she didn't want to do it again. “Ser Donnic, this is my soon-to-be husband once Aveline meets with us. His name is Ash. He is...like Merc, politically.”

Donnic sighed in relief despite his mild amusement. “Aveline will...have an opinion, I'm sure.”

“Which I'm hoping you will charm her out of; dismantling her gruffness has always been your talent,” Hawke murmured, winked, and took Ash's hand. Her love had been staring at her in mild surprise that she'd been so truthful.

The guardsman glanced to the pretty elf at their side in curiosity. “And she?”

“My new steward. Donnic, if you would escort her, I will meet up shortly after. I have one stop to make before I go into the house.”

Ash stared her down with narrowed eyes, but Hawke simply smiled as Donnic smirked, knowing exactly what she meant. He gestured with a polite bow to Lumia. The elf turned, whispered she would see Hawke shortly, and followed the kind human, already verbally helping him sort their items for transport. Hawke sighed in relief at that, just glad to see the young woman already taking charge.

“Hawke,” Ash rumbled.

She glanced up, then tugged his hand, pulling him through the big gate into the city. Ash looked apprehensive, as if trying to fight immediate distaste of a food he was attempting to swallow as his eyes roamed around the people and buildings with familiarity. She stroked her fingers around his larger ones, getting a slight bit of a sigh out of him, and quietly strolled with him toward her second home in Lowtown.

Of course she should have figured that folks were going to erupt when she entered.

The population of the Hanged Man went deadly silent at first as the door creaked open in the early afternoon; it was early for the largest crowd, but a fair amount started early anymore. Hawke slid inside first, her face clearly showing after a moment, and the silence shifted at first to stunned, then excited. Loud whoops echoed, stools and chairs moved, and a few locals moved to run to her, already shouting her name in happy greeting.

“Hawke! Maker, sight for sore eyes, you are!”

“Champion!”

One man elbowed another, grunting, “I told ya she didn't forget us.”

Hawke laughed loudly and stepped more inside, smiling as someone immediately offered her drink and chair. She declined with a little wave of thanks, saying her hellos to others she recognized. Then, a second later, the silence came back. But this time it was deadly again.

She felt Ash shift close behind her, ready to protect her in case of anything. The irony was that so were the patrons on her other side, afraid of _him_. They stared up at the giant ox with a mixture of bravado, trepidation, and debate—much like she herself used to do in the compound. It made her a little proud, in its own way.

Still, it needed curbed before it could become a problem. Hawke sharply whistled through her teeth, hurting ears all around. “All right! Listen up.”

“Champion, that one of yours?” a dark bearded man by the inner bar asked.

Hawke winked and took Ash's hand once more. “More accurate to say I'm one of his. I'm gonna marry him, Torin.”

Brows went up around the room before a collective groan echoed. One man to her left threw his hat down and stomped on it. “Damn it,” he grunted and collapsed back into his chair, sad.

Ash's stance relaxed some against her, and as Hawke looked up at him she saw him fighting very puzzled amusement. The rest of the patrons also slowly relaxed back into chairs and murmurs near the fire, eyes going over the Qunari with scrutiny. Hawke knew what they were evaluating: How strong was the ox? Could he protect the Champion if need be? A couple even muttered about his size, one whispering, “He's gonna squish her in bed like a damn bug. Then we have a dead Champion.”

Hawke chuckled, shook her head, and called for a tea from the bar maid as she snagged the hidden key to unlock Varric's room in the back. Ash followed closely, glaring at some and getting surprisingly equally strong glares in return. She tugged him along a back passage and hall, found Varric's door, and unlocked it.

With a smile she entered, walked straight to the dwarf's unused bed, and sat upon it.

Ash shut the door behind them, glancing to her, then the small fire kept going in the fireplace. “Hawke?” he finally pondered aloud.

“Sorry. This is Varric's room. A safe place for business,” Hawke explained, staring up at the bit of drapes around the bed. “We must speak with Merc, who is without doubt on his way here hearing about us.”

“This is the mercenary?”

“Yep.” Her dark eyes teased his way, noting him trying to find a spot against a wall to view the door while also being between it and she. “Calm, dearest. The pub is safe.”

“Hm.”

“Ash, all of those men didn't trust you because they didn't know you. I said what I did. That means _I_ trust you, so they will eventually.”

His lip slightly curved then. “Some seemed upset at your declaration.”

“I guess they held out hope.”

Ash moved a bit when there was a soft rap at the door. Hawke called for the maid to enter, then took the tea at the little table of Varric's with a happy noise. She sniffed it, missing the old, groggy teas from the pub over the years. It struck her again as the maid left with a wink at her and a brazen quick look at Ash that Hawke was really here. In Kirkwall. Her eyes lifted to see him moving around the room, carefully inspecting and finding little hints of Varric—a book here, a list of parchments there, even an arrow or two.

“I told him once in this very room...well, as much as I could tell him. I said I loved a man who could never love me back because of our stations in life,” Hawke murmured, staring into her cup and missing his quick glance to her. “Varric worried, of course. Understood. Wanted to set me up with some people he knew. But I couldn't.”

Ash came a little closer, but didn't speak.

Hawke exhaled and closed her eyes in remembrance. “I told him that the afternoon before you and I fought.”

A chair slid roughly to her side, and he heavily sat into it with a dangerous creak. Hawke felt his big warm hand rest on her leg and casually turned her face, opening her eyes. Ash's brows were drawn in with either frustration or mild agitation, but his eyes were something else—ashamed. Hawke immediately sat her cup down and moved her body more, reaching for him, arms around his thick neck and face against his. She'd had suspicions since that night in the cave outside of Crestwood that Ash held guilt much like she did—he'd just spent more time avoiding it or reasoning it away rather than feeling it, having never seen a reason to consider it valid before, and their conversation in Denerim had proven it to her with his need to know if she _trusted._

When he said nothing, just leaned against her, Hawke kissed the shell of his ear the way he liked and murmured, “If I have to let go of mine, let go of yours. Like you told me once, there is nothing needing to be forgiven.”

Ash pulled away slightly, his strange, handsome eyes tight as he nodded. Hawke smiled at him a little, picked up her tea, and went to take a long drink of it when the door slammed open harshly behind her. Ash was on his feet, sword already in hand as Hawke nearly spit the tea in surprise.

Merc entered, his own sword drawn, glaring. It had been some time since she'd last seen him, but he was still the same light gray skinned, dark eyed, cocky mercenary he'd been then...well, cocky once he'd gotten established, at least, and had come into himself more. His horns were smaller and drew back from his face, curving differently than Ash's. His chest was bare, the shorter white hair between his horns was a bit sandy, and Hawke was betting he'd just been working out or something similar due to his regulated breathing.

The second the smaller—well, smaller than Ash—Qunari recognized her, tea in hand and brows high in shock, he visibly calmed, but his eyes moved tighter on Ash behind him.

“Merc,” Hawke began.

“You brought him into this city. I know him, Hawke. The rest may not, but I do.”

Ash growled lowly behind her, no doubt standing impressively at his full height to intimidate. Hawke held her hand up, tilted her face, and gave Merc a half-grin. “Merc, look at me.”

Merc slid his own dark eyes down to her. Hawke watched his handsome face twitch in confusion as to how to feel. The city had, for Qunari, become Merc's domain, but it was always hers first. “Yes?” he finally asked.

“There's much you don't know. I'd rather you sit down, have a fucking tea, and let me make a proposition. I'd rather we work together than my _kadan_ kill a friend of mine.”

Merc's head came up at the Qunlat word chosen. The sword fell lower in his grip as he eyed the pair in mild confusion.

“He is not here to invade, conquer, or any other ridiculousness, Merc. He's simply here to get married to me and live with me in my home,” Hawke semi-explained, one brow arched as Merc blew out a breath, sheathed his sword and sat down, gaze still tight on the face way above and behind her. The sound of Ash finally holstering his own sword had Hawke calming more.

Merc stared. Then, in a move Hawke expected from having known the Qunari for so long, he grunted out, “Does _he know_ he's your _kadan_ , Hawke?”

When Hawke and Fenris had first found Merc, he'd been left behind after the wave of Qunari Tal-Vashoth attacks and Ash's own fight. They'd nearly thrown him from the pub, but Merc had explained that he just wanted to fight for himself. No Qun in any sense. He'd wanted to be like _them_. So the group had, with Varric's help, set Merc up as a mercenary for local purposes. And over time the Qunari had proven reliable and strong, getting clients on his own and recruiting the odd Qunari like himself from the coast that wandered close and passed his tests. Still, regardless of how far outside of the Qun he existed, Merc, like Ash, still had some mental bindings to the culture and philosophy—and one of the irritating sides of it was a discounting of humans' understanding of them.

Hawke fucking laughed when she looked up at Ash and saw his huge frown, much like the time she'd asked him how he'd caught fish for her. Ash snorted and put a strong hand on her shoulder, possessive as always. “Yes, _I do_.”

“Huh.” Merc shrugged, not sure how else to take that information.

“We've been together for a long time, whether we knew it or not, Merc,” Hawke murmured and straightened in her chair. “But I needed you to know he was here before you came...swinging.”

Merc's lip lifted in a slight sneer.

“Remember, darling, how you started,” she reminded him. “You used to be so much more Qun, still, back then. Hm. So calm and ordered.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Merc finally grunted, the sneer dropping into a smirk. “So, you're back.”

Hawke nodded after another sip of her tea. “Yes. I told you why I'd left before. We met up with the Inquisition, aided them a bit, and then left. So now we're here.”

Merc glanced around the room while he settled more comfortably into the chair across from her. “Hm.”

“While we are here, I want you to work together. There will be spies, possibly assassins, coming for us. Especially for me, Merc. They will be likely human or elven Qunari, but if they're stupid enough, they may be blooded Qunari, too, in deceit to get close to you.”

“Not surprising, Hawke. You took the Arishok from them.”

Before Hawke could even sputter a nonsensical reply, Ash grumbled, “No, she didn't. They made their choice, and I made mine in turn.”

Merc's smaller, slightly curved horns tilted back as he shifted. “So you're entirely without Qun, too.”

“Yes.”

“Scary, isn't it, at first.”

Ash snorted. “Strange,” he amended.

Hawke held back the giggle as Merc crossed his arms over his bare chest, still smirking. “Scary,” he refuted. “But of course you'd never admit that. Why should you, Mad Ox? You're the scariest thing on two legs besides this magister out there.”

Ash actually managed a soft echo of a laugh, pulling his previous chair close to Hawke's side and letting his hand slide down to her thigh under the table as he crossed his ankles away from them for space. Hawke snickered, leaned up, and kissed his cheek briefly before turning back to see Merc's slightly wide eyes. “Merc?”

“Yeah?”

“Get him assignments or let him aid your men. Get him in routine. Show the rest that he's trustworthy and one of theirs. We may need that line of defense.”

Merc smiled, then, dashing as hell with those white teeth against the gray skin. “He gonna be able to _take_ orders like he gives them?”

Ash sneered and raised a heavy brow. “ _Can you_ , little one?”

“Still got it, huh,” Merc said, laughing a little. Hawke was just glad years of being a Lowtown resident had mellowed out the younger, smaller Qunari.

“I will do what must be done. Hawke must be protected.”

Merc nodded, growing serious then. “Fair. So...you've been attacked, then.”

“Twice,” Ash rumbled, angry. “I took a few wounds in both cases.”

Hawke could tell Merc wanted to ask questions that he didn't feel comfortable asking, so she muttered, “Merc, we were attacked at first because of him coming to me, yes. But now it is...mostly at me for something else. The last group tried to kidnap me and nearly succeeded if it weren't for Ash.”

A low growl streamed from the Qunari across from her, surprising Ash. Merc's eyes were nearly black. “What?” he softly asked.

“Ash,” she said, gesturing with her head to her love at her side, “saved me from a few assassins. One had hit me with a pommel to the head and took me on my horse. It was...close.”

“Why would they take you? They should just kill you then and be done with it.”

Hawke winced at the blatant Qunari phrasing, noting Ash's anger in his eyes. “Merc, they'd been spying on us with the Inquisition. There was...um.”

Ash sighed in annoyance and cracked his neck. “I had a rut. It took. Hawke carries.”

Merc's eyes went so damn wide that Hawke barked out a soft laugh.

She patted her belly under the table, nodding, as he stared at her, speechless. “So...now we're home. And I want your help. Your cooperation, friend.”

“Shit,” Merc said, nearly in awe. “That is...unexpected.”

“Because of who and what we are?”

“Because...of many things.” Merc turned and focused on Ash, almost singularly. “You'll work with me to monitor things, be willing to take jobs beneath you to listen?”

Ash looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but settled for a nod. “When it is safe enough. I will not leave her in her home unprotected.”

“Of course,” Merc agreed. “What do you need?”

“Our first step is getting home. I plan to have us married within the week for legal safety,” Hawke explained, spreading her hands upon the table. “After that, you two work as you must...but, Merc, I will have to recluse soon. I'm getting too big as is.”

At his raised brow, Hawke laughed and semi-rose out of the chair, pulling her tunic tight and showing her stomach. Merc's eyes bulged as his nose twitched, instincts no doubt sniffing to confirm what he was seeing.

“My son will never be taken. My _kadan_ will know safety,” Ash warned softly, hand moving up to stroke her head. “You understand what showing you this has meant, yes?”

Merc sighed solemnly. “Yeah. I know. I won't ever break that trust. I wouldn't be who I am without Hawke's help.”

“She...does that,” Ash said, a small smirk on his lips as Hawke smiled up at him.

Hawke looked away, yawning. “I need you to cover us with the folk. Say whatever you will, just get them to trust. Tell them I met him fighting and fell head over heels for a strong man.”

“Pff. They can figure that out on their own,” her friend snickered, then grinned at Ash. “Just don't kill any locals without my say so.”

“Hm.”

Hawke stretched, then asked for Ash's help to stand. He immediately complied, moving to pull her gently to her tired knees. She waited a moment for her stomach to settle and orient, still feeling after effects of the ship ride.

Merc sat up, chair pushing back. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Ship here was awful.” Hawke rubbed her face, leaning against Ash for support. “I may need your aid in getting some herbs and the like later. Qunari stuff.”

“I'll do my best.”

“All right. I'm going home, and I'm going to bed. Wish me luck, Merc. I may have to break Aveline to get us married.”

Merc laughed loudly, watching Hawke's grimace and Ash's own look of disgust sync without their awareness. “Eh, remind her she wouldn't be where she is without you.”

“The redhead will back down,” Ash warned.

“You stay scary, Mad Ox, and she just might,” Merc said, nodded, and opened the door, watching them leave with concern on his face.

 

 

 

 


	35. The Redhead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Finally got to play some and get photos of Camilla from DA:I. They're at the bottom of the first chapter now.]  
> Found this shorter chapter before some wedded details and a fantastic scene with Gamlen. Also a scene with Tallis coming later.  
> Editing this old material while I finish posting brand new stuff in another fandom, so sorry for the delay.
> 
> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

When he'd stormed Kirkwall in the end, he'd paid little attention to some of the homes, buildings and such. Back then the only focus had been the governing building, the one to seize to take control of the rest. So now, as Ash gazed up at what would possibly be his future home, he wasn't quite sure what to think. He'd seen the slums of the city. He'd lived in his compound. He'd been in nicer quarters in Par Vollen itself, but usually not for very long lengths—the Arishok was always on the move with the soldiers. He supposed what he was looking at would be a bit different to accustom himself toward, especially considering how he and Hawke had been camping or stuck in a small room in Skyhold for so long at this point.

The walls of the mansion were a white stone, and outside the big doors was Hawke's red bird painted with no discretion. Ash noticed guards and a merchant standing outside of it, some with boards and papers as they sorted goods that Hawke had ordered the second they had gotten back.

Inside the large home was a small parlor, a big living reception with furniture big enough for even himself and a grand staircase and fireplace. To the left on the ground floor were the kitchens, pantry and cellar. Through the back was a small hidden nook she'd explained was kept as a safe room of sorts, hidden from everyone else. Up the stairs to the slight right was the master bedroom, and to the left was a hall that led to an open balcony with small library and desk, and two other smaller bedrooms and a large, private bath.

Ash stood near the fireplace in the bedroom, watching Hawke flutter between new orders for Lumia as the elf scrambled to dust every surface in the house and sweep. He himself had gotten many of the large windows opened for them to air the home, and he was quite stunned at first by the views the windows afforded them: from one they could oversee most of the city, and from another, the back private gardens that would need weeded and replanted.

The massive bed was stripped for sheets and blankets to be washed. Pillows were taken down to be beaten for dusting, just like the rugs. And all Ash could imagine as he glanced to it now was how it would look with their furs draping between the curtains surrounding it. Hawke had had him rest upon it briefly to test his size and weight, and Ash had been pleasantly surprised by how comfortable and spacious the bed truly was.

He moved anything she asked, saying little most of the day. Hawke in this situation had the expertise, so he didn't question her judgment on rearranging anything or carrying goods in to be set here or there in the cellar for the moment.

By the end of the evening, Ash was exhausted mentally _and_ physically.

He was almost asleep on the lounging sofa, head titled back with the heaviness of his horns and his eyes closed when the knocker sounded extra loudly in his barely conscious mind.

Ash rose up before Hawke could call to investigate it, and he walked carefully to the door, yanking his sword out just in case.

There was another knock. And another. All so _assertive_ and demanding.

He wasn't surprised when he opened the door to find the Redhead glaring up at him in shock and disturbed confusion and anger. She looked formidable with her tense posture and newer armored appearance, like a woman clearly used to being obeyed despite the daily stresses of crime and city, but Ash was not the least bit intimidated. Not much bothered him these days that didn't come bearing horns.

“Get _out_ of my way, Qunari,” she dared demand to his face. “Hawke and I must speak. Now.”

“No,” he snapped, smirking inside as she reeled back at his tone. It might not be his compound anymore, but the setting was more his than hers by far nonetheless. “This is not _your_ home. It is hers. It is mine. You do not demand _anything_ from us here.”

The redheaded human woman glared, her eyes taking in his sword in his hand while his observed the sword and shield at her own back.

Ash waited a moment, and then he stood tall in triumph as she finally sighed, “Fine. May I enter and speak with Hawke?”

He moved away from the door, amused with that look of self-hate on her face at having asked his permission, and shut the heavy wood when she entered with clanking steps. Ash replaced his sword on the nearby rack he'd originally hung it from, no doubt an odd custom Hawke had had in the past for guests.

Ash moved past the woman as Hawke called out from the bedroom in concern. “Hawke, come. Your...ally is here.”

A rustle of hurried footsteps echoed around the balcony, and then Hawke leaned over its side, smiling with her long golden hair down. “Hey! Aveline! I'm home.”

“Oh, I am _aware_ , Hawke. Get down here.”

“Even a calmer city hasn't changed you, I see,” Hawke teased with a raised brow and came down the stairs carefully with a hand on the banister. “How've you been? Donnic seemed well.”

“I'm fine, Hawke. I want to know what the hell is going on here. I'm glad you're home, but you have to understand—I've got people in the streets panicking over an unknown Qunari, and I know him _damn_ well. I think I'm owed an explanation, if not for security, then as your friend, no?”

“Maker, Aveline, I was getting around to it. Had plenty to do just getting in the door,” Hawke grumbled and finished coming down the stairs.

Ash rumbled a low growl at the woman as she started towards Hawke immediately. His _kadan_ just patted his arm near her at the sound while the redheaded guardswoman stared.

Hawke blew out an awkward breath and gripped the back of the lounging sofa. “Before you have an entire litter of kittens from what I'm about to say, I'm going to swear that I've made all decisions with a sound and _sober_ mind. All right?”

Aveline immediately threw a hand against her brow. “Oh, Maker, this can't be good.”

“No, no, it's fine. Seriously, it's lovely. I just can't have you refusing anything based on personal bias. You do, and I'll either go around you or take everything and leave this city for good,” Hawke drawled, and Ash fought the smirk as her voice got smoother and darker with each successive word.

“Fine, Hawke. What is it?” Aveline crossed her arms, as if to brace herself.

“I want to get married,” Hawke grinned, turned, and pointed up at Ash, “to him.”

The Redhead blanched and grabbed Hawke by the shoulders, trying to pull her away with panic in her normally well guarded eyes. “Hawke, you have _got_ to be joking. He nearly _killed_ you! Why is he here? How is he here? Why is he with you?”

Before Hawke could even take a breath, Ash reached forward and pulled her from the woman's grasp and against his side. His eyes narrowed below his frowning brow, and he snarled, “Do not touch her.”

“Excuse me?” Aveline asked, shocked.

“Do _not_ touch her,” Ash warned once more.

Hawke wriggled against him a little, then sighed. “He's very protective now, but he's right. Gotta be careful, Aveline. And I'll answer your questions—all of them—over dinner. Just take a damn breath, will you?”

Aveline frowned slowly, gazing over Hawke with scrutiny. “Fine, but be careful of what?”

“This,” Hawke shrugged and lifted her house robes slightly.

Ash waited for the screaming, the shouting, the “Hawke-how-fucking-stupid-are-you-really” calls of surprise and processing, but all that came was silence as the Redhead stood, entirely dumbfounded for once.

“Aveline?” Hawke murmured, still holding onto Ash's arm but taking a single step toward her friend. “You all there?”

The Redhead took a deep, deep breath. Closed her eyes. Pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Seriously, how angry are you?”

Ash sneered. “She has no right to such reactions, Hawke. It is not her life.”

His _kadan_ patted his arm with a slight nod, but she still waited for the Redhead's response.

When Aveline finally spoke, it was heavy with what definitely sounded like familiar exasperation even Ash himself had felt around Hawke before.

“Maker, Hawke,” the guardswoman said. “Out of _everything_ you've ever done, ever dragged me _into_ to watch your ass, this one...this one crowns all. Did you even _think_ about this beforehand?”

“Yes. Was hoping it wouldn't happen yet, of course.”

“Hawke.”

But Hawke just smiled quite confidently, enough that even Ash calmed some. “The point is, Aveline, that it _did_ happen. Now's the time to prepare and handle it. Questioning the why now is just wasted time, and I've wasted enough on it already.”

“Hell. I try to get you to make sense and be careful, and you only do it after _this_ , apparently,” Aveline griped, but shook her head with an almost amused frustration. “Dinner, then. And I get every answer I want if I'm to protect you with this.”

“Deal, so long as you're nice to Ash. Nice as possible.”

Ash eyed the Redhead as uncomfortably as she eyed him back.

Hawke grunted and walked away from the both of them, waving for the kitchen with a soft, “Maker, it was worth a damn try.”

 

 

[-----------------------]

 

 

Much later that evening, Hawke lay awake in bed with a sleeping Qunari wrapped around her.

She was tired. She was relieved. But most of all she felt strange, as if being back in her home meant something off or wrong. Hawke tried to mark the feeling down to all the constant change since Anders' act against the Chantry in Kirkwall, but in truth she'd always struggled a bit accepting the residence _as_ her home. It had been her mother's in some way to her mind.

But now it was hers, hers and Ash's, and as she rested her hand over the bump in her belly, she shivered a bit despite the heat her lover radiated behind her.

If she were honest with herself, she was scared still.

Aveline listened, thankfully, to everything Hawke and Ash had to say, but she raised several concerns as well as to safety in the coming months—like keeping Hawke more housebound with guards with the contracts, or doing a probationary period for Ash's legal residence based upon his former actions against the city. While he wouldn't likely be recognized by all, no, Aveline still wanted some sort of justice. Hawke understood. Even Ash nodded with it. But neither was looking forward to feeling under Aveline's protective, expectant judgment.

It took nearly two hours before Hawke wrestled a date and time for a private ceremony later that week for the marriage. Aveline agreed, finally, to oversee it herself as Hawke's friend, but she demanded for Hawke's safety that a clause be included in the paperwork to protect her in case anything went sideways with Ash in town or her relationship. To grant her entire custody of the coming child, should something so awful occur.

Hawke again understood. But she refused.

For one, she trusted him, and he needed that last bit of proof. For two, she'd leave the damn city at that point if it was just arguments over his presence. And for three, Hawke was already wishing Varric was in Kirkwall so she could have _him_ argue with Aveline for her.

Aveline backed down with some well debated points from Ash about how granting such power to Hawke over him was advocating inequality in a supposed equal union, and he reminded Hawke that that had been the entire point to begin with. That he didn't _need_ the marriage the way she might want it.

“I know,” she'd replied. “Maker, we should have just eloped in Denerim.”

“Damn it, Hawke, I'm not saying I don't get why you want it. I'm just saying to be smart about it,” Aveline had commented then, holding her brow in one hand. “What if you change your mind?”

And Ash had just sat back in his chair at dinner, crossed his big arms and scowled. “Unlikely. One would think you barely know Hawke.”

Hawke had laughed at last, cracking the mood and easing the atmosphere.

Still as she held Ash's hand to her chest now in bed, she hoped he wasn't silently feeling trapped by the sudden changes the way her anxiety whispered she might be. Hawke had gotten far too familiar with dropping anything at a moment's notice to travel, stab things, and get paid.

“Maybe I should join Merc,” she murmured softly, eyes closing once more. “Run the business and stop exacting it so much.”

“Maybe you should sleep,” came the gravelly response. “If _I_ need it from dealing with the redhead, then you must.”

Hawke snickered and curled closer into his big, warm body. “Aveline's rough, but she loves me. Seriously, she does.”

Ash grunted in disbelief behind her.

“Well, I'm pretty sure she does, anyway,” Hawke grinned in the dark. “I think you'll like Merrill better, if her sweetness doesn't drive you mad.”

“Which one is that?”

“The elven mage I brought with me back then.”

“Big eyes. Lithe. Quiet voiced.”

“Kinda, yeah. Gentle, if you don't count some naughty things,” Hawke whispered, not sure dropping that old information about blood magic and mirrors and Merrill's past would be a good idea.

Ash just sighed into her hair, told her she easily befriended far too many strange individuals and that surely that had to mean something about _her_.

Hawke drifted to sleep after jamming a sweet, loving elbow right into his ribs.  
  
  


 


	36. Daisy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

“Merrill, you can let go now.”

“Oh, but Hawke, I've not seen you in so long.”

“I know, dear, but I've _really_ got to go.”

Merrill leaned back in her warm hug with confused eyes. “Go? Where? Should I leave?”

Hawke winked at her friend. “Pee. I've got to go _pee_. Badly.”

“Oh. Oh! I'm so sorry,” Merrill murmured and kindly helped Hawke across the upper landing toward her bedroom's chamber pot.

Hawke stumbled once, caught herself, and sighed when Merrill discreetly ran to shut the door while Hawke relieved herself with a groan. “Maker. It's constant now.”

“But how exciting!”

“True,” Hawke agreed as she adjusted tiredly when she finished. “How's folks in the Alienage? Any better?”

Merill nodded and aided her back to her feet to walk the staircase. “Yes. At first the Templar fighting was still terrible, but that's calmed so much over the months with many of them suddenly leaving the city. I took other complaints to Aveline, and she and Bran were able to work some things out to at the least alleviate some major concerns. I don't...I don't know if the 'knife-ear' bits will ever stop, though, no matter what we try.”

“I know. Arseholes,” Hawke sighed, making her way to the kitchens where Lumia had already started preparing her something, quickly finding a schedule of her own. “Hello, Lumia.”

“Mistress! I remembered your stomach wanting gentleness this morning, so I've got a light pastry delivered and I'm brewing your tea.”

“You're such a blessing, thank you.”

Merrill stepped closer toward Lumia, peering at her shyly for a moment. “Are you from an Alienage?”

“Orlais,” Lumia said and looked away.

Hawke's superior observance noted it, and she frowned to herself, but shook off the odd thoughts it inspired. “So, Merrill. Have you been practicing healing magic more since I left?”

“Yes. I help wounded workers rebuilding here in Kirkwall,” the Dalish mage replied as she leaned beside Hawke at the large island loaded with vegetables in the kitchen. “I haven't used...you know. Not for a while. Not since that final fight, I promise. I've kept people safe since then with nature magic.”

Hawke quietly sighed out her relief. “Well, how'd you feel about delivering this baby of mine later on?”

Merrill's eyes widened further, somehow, and she grinned. “Really?”

“I have no idea how to. Aveline sure as hell doesn't. That leaves you as my hope.”

“Well, I never personally delivered any children in the clan, but I have seen it done once when the Keeper got involved with a dangerous birthing and magic was needed,” Merrill answered, tilting her face. “I will ask mothers in the Alienage and do my best, Hawke.”

“Thanks, Daisy,” Hawke smiled, drinking the tea sat near her from a slightly bowing Lumia.

“Could I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Bethany always knew more healing than I have. Where is she?”

Hawke's fingers rubbed her belly once. She sat her cup down a moment. “I sent her to Skyhold. She needs the opportunity before it is lost to study with the free mages there—to feel like she's finally a part of something _good_ and not damned for simply being a mage.”

When Merrill accepted her own tea from Lumia with a polite thank you, the elven servant passed toward the cellar, no doubt to double check things for the night's dinner. “I'm glad for her, then. What was this Inquisition like? We've heard such strange things, and the sky...it has frightened me, Hawke. I feel...I feel somewhere the same desperation _I_ had.”

“What do you mean?” Hawke questioned her friend, focusing. She remembered Merrill's fixation on blood magic and the elves too well, but so much had been happening with the Inquisition and Thedas alone that she didn't quite understand what could be inspiring the words. The fear of the people in Ferelden and Orlais? The Templars' actions causing chaos?

The elf patted her fingers upon the wooden island, drumming them gently. “I do not know how to explain it. It's just...there. Magic feels stronger, wilder. The Veil is so thin at times now, and it fluctuates. And that itself...feels...it calls to me. Not just me, Hawke, but some of those in the Alienage, too. A few have left recently, and not from the effects of Kirkwall, either. Just...gone. Do you think they're joining the Inquisition?”

“Very possibly,” Hawke readily agreed. She'd seen _many_ elves at Skyhold and in the camps as scouts, warriors, and guards. Solas crossed her mind then, for some reason, and she leaned closer, brown eyes curious. “Hey, Merrill?”

“Hm?”

“Did you ever...did your clan ever mention an elf named Solas? He claimed to be an elven apostate. He wore no _vallaslin_ , and he was _very_ educated. Almost like he knew _too_ much about all this Fade and Rift stuff.”

Merrill frowned, but slowly shook her head. “Solas...no. I'd like to meet him, though. I'm sure he'd be wonderful to learn from, if he knows so much.”

Hawke just nodded silently, deciding _not_ to tell her dear friend that she'd heard the other elf's opinions on blood magic on a few of their long rides with the Inquisition parties.

It was difficult, really, for her then. Solas had made plenty of fair points—that the magic itself was not at fault, but merely damned by its user's intent. And all too often that intent in the past was associated with revenge, violence, and death to taint the practice at all. It had made Hawke question what she remembered of Merrill's own reasons for using it, but the Keeper's death to this day still rested too heavy in her mind. Both of their minds, likely.

“Are you happy, Hawke?”

The sudden soft question snapped Hawke from her thoughts, and she stared into Merrill's concern gaze with softness. Her throat swallowed tightly as her hand rested upon her stomach, but she smiled all the same. “Yes. I'm terrified, but happy.”

“Your letter I got this morning—it mentioned threats,” Merrill stated, sitting her own cup down. “Are you safe here?”

“Maker, I hope so,” Hawke whispered, trembling with her free hand catching the wood before her to feel steady again. “Qunari spies and assassins have hunted us before. I'm hoping...I'm hoping being here will help. Perhaps that's wildly stupid to think, but....”

“But it is home, and you've got more than one friend in Kirkwall,” Merrill completed her thought.

“Yes. Ash has gone with Merc for a bit to meet the others working for him, get a sense of what they need from Ash and such. It wasn't easy getting him to leave me here. Aveline had to come sit with me until she heard from the guards that you were close by and on your way.”

Merrill bit her lip while a little smile danced in her eyes. “How...did she take the news? Of your desire for marriage? Of the baby? Of _him_?”

“As expected. She ranted quite a while, we bickered like always, and I won with minor concessions on points at dinner.”

“She _has_ always been...um, a set way with you, hasn't she?”

“My _big_ sister. My big sister who knows all, even when she's too stubborn to see otherwise.”

Merrill laughed a little. “Yes.”

Hawke shrugged and chewed on her pastry, breaking it in half to share with Merrill who protested only to get it chucked at her head; the elf caught it, smiling knowingly.

“Fenris might come back after he gets Bethany settled. Not sure yet. Otherwise it might be quite some time until we see him.”

“How is he?”

“Better. Honestly, better some.”

“That's good. And Varric?”

“Smiling when he doesn't want to be, but he _does_ like the Inquisitor and some of the main players there,” Hawke murmured, licking a finger. “And when he gets done, he's coming home. He had _better_.”

The smile on Merrill's face showed how much she missed Varric, too, and it made Hawke briefly ache for a moment of the past—of silliness at the Hanged Man after a rough afternoon of dealing with mercs or spiders. Of sitting with Merrill in her home having tea and talking about pasts.

“I'm a bit surprised you're not panicking as much about Ash, you know,” the words blurted before Hawke can stop them.

Merrill's brows arched. Her lips pursed, and she simply answered the unspoken question with a soft, “I trust your judgment, Hawke. We've been through so much...and I remember seeing how broken you were after he left, and by that I mean your _heart_. No one else caught that part, but I did. And I was sorry for it, that it had to happen the way it did. So for this...for this, I can be happy for you. I can trust him for you.”

Hawke's body trembled as a hand unexpectedly rose to her mouth, covering it, and her eyes wet. She hadn't yet had this sort of support from anyone about it, and it was...astonishing.

“I know what it is like to have to do something you feel is right, but others do not. I know what it means to do something out of love while the rest fear. And I know that regrets come when we begin to wonder,” Merrill added, watching her closely with her own slight happy shade of sadness.

A moment of silence passed, and then Hawke slid over and accepted the open arms from her friend, holding her and feeling like two outcasts that understand one another in ways others never will see.  
  
  


 


	37. A Kicking Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

There were two things that Aveline knew to be true the morning she helped officiate the legal union between Hawke and Ash: First, that she still _really_ wasn't sure this was a good idea at all, and second, that Hawke wasn't about to heed any advice she had on this matter because Hawke was herself—bold, daring, and beyond ridiculously courageous even when it got her knee deep in shit for Aveline to haul the rogue out.

Even so, as Aveline watched Bran stand in as the Seneschal for the secular, brief exchange of words in marriage, she couldn't help but be the tiniest bit proud of Hawke. Her friend had gone through _so much_ in just the past year alone without counting everything that had happened before Kirkwall's Circle rebellion. And though the situation was less than ideal and tentatively secure at best, Aveline still found herself slowly wanting to smile as the woman, the practical sister, who'd helped her finally find love again with Donnic by using that same fool-hearted courage, stood up on her toes in her lovely loose, thin dress to kiss the tall Qunari before her in matching red silks hastily adjusted by a talented elven seamstress in the Alienage.

The once Arishok she knew barely looked like himself even with those gold bands on his horns catching the light of the window as he bent, closed his eyes, and kissed Hawke firmly, one of his large hands easily cupping her entire head to hold her steady with his other arm going around her lower back.

Their matching gold wedding rings glinted, and Hawke smiled through a tear or two as she opened her dark eyes and looked up into Ash's, Aveline watching it all as softness, _true softness_ , overtook his expression for the briefest of seconds before he rubbed his large brow to Hawke's gently once and straightened his posture.

And just like that, Hawke was married to the Qunari who'd nearly killed her in front of Aveline, herself.

Merrill cried a little off to the side, wiping her face quietly.

Aveline wanted to huff a bit at the emotional sight of the elf, but she, too, felt an odd hitch in her throat, and subconsciously Aveline's gaze darted about her office to land upon Donnic nearby, finding him looking right back at her with a knowing, intimate smile.

She smiled back, inwardly pleased by his thoughtfulness.

Bran grunted and sniped at Hawke to get over to the desk to sign papers, lest he change his mind and walk out as he had more _important_ things to do than marry the Champion to some Qunari.

Aveline brought a _very_ firm hand down upon Bran's shoulder just as Ash himself narrowed his eyes in a dangerous warning, and she said, polite enough as she could, “Cut the attitude. Sign the papers, and remember _your_ status. You might be a stand-in, Bran, and you'll sigh when you're relieved by someone for the Vicount's seat, but _that Qunari_ is not one for you to run your mouth to, do you understand me? Your head can roll just as easily down those damn steps if I cannot stop him.”

Hawke's eyes lit up, and she laughed behind her hand, shaking with it until some of her golden hair fell out of its tie and cascaded a bit down her shoulder. Merrill bit her lip, large wet eyes laughing for her. Ash simply arched part of his large brow at Aveline with genuine surprise...and approval.

Perhaps there could be a bridge there, with time, she thought. Perhaps for Hawke's sake.

Bran trembled a second, caught in shock at Aveline's words, and then shook it off for his vanity, and tiredly mumbled, “Fine. Lady Hawke, would you please sign here for official records...and you...Ash...sign here. For the city's purposes you will share her surname, but you do not have to speak it if you do not wish.”

“Just roll with it,” Hawke snickered up at Ash's immediate sigh.

Ash signed as well, with much neater and meticulous writing that Aveline could have ever imagined crediting him with before.

And it made her wonder, honestly wonder, for the first time since that dinner with Hawke if there really were things about this Qunari that hinted at someone very deep instead of someone very singularly focused. He had, after all, debated Hawke often back in the day, but Aveline hadn't known then that he was an avid reader, as Hawke had mentioned the morning after their dinner. Ash had apparently been combing the shelves in Hawke's library, quite curious about _bas_ writing on some topics.

He was far more learned than Aveline had expected, though she'd always gauged him to be very intelligent even when she hated everything about his stubborn ass.

As soon as the papers were stamped with the city seal, Bran took them and practically ran from the room with his fast trot, hissing under his breath about Hawke still thinking she ruled the city somehow when he damn well knew she didn't.

The little shit.

Aveline rolled her eyes, but smiled at Hawke when Hawke noticed her do it and chuckled. “Someone needs to unseat his temporary ass. Feeling _very_ noble, Hawke?”

“Not that much,” Hawke replied, hand in Ash's hold. “You couldn't _pay_ me, darling.”

“Damn,” Aveline muttered, uncrossing her arms.

Donnic strode to her side with his soft smile. “You know many of the guards think you should apply, love.”

Aveline felt the scowl slide right over her tired mouth. “And as I've told several of my captains, I'd really rather _not_.”

“Oh, but you'd not do too badly, you know!” Hawke interjected while Ash gazed down over her. “Although, if you took that seat, I have _no_ idea who'd do your job. Shit.”

“Exactly, Hawke.”

They all walked out together, Merrill helping Hawke move with her dress as it threw off her balance somewhat with its minor trailing. Donnic gave Aveline a private parting kiss before leaving to start his shift on watch, and she followed Hawke's private litter she'd acquired, absolutely refusing the night before to let Hawke walk even that far up all those stairs from her home today.

Ash seemed appreciative now in his strange manner as he helped Hawke into it, Merrill prancing down to the other side to check that she'd settled fine. Aveline tilted her head toward the four guards, watching them grunt to lift the litter up.

“You look like damn royalty, you spoiled brat,” Aveline teased as Hawke peered out between the partially drawn red curtains and grinned like a love struck fool.

“You know what, I kind of am. Princess of the Hanged Man.”

“Maker, Hawke. You'd better _behave_ until this baby's born. And _after_ , too.”

“Hey. I've been doing _great_ , thank you.”

Aveline snickered, but nodded. Because it was true. Hawke glowed, and Hawke felt entirely different to Aveline—stronger, more secure. Grounded in a way she'd never been before.

The cause of it, the huge Qunari now Hawke's husband, moved down and tapped Hawke's face with the pads of his fingers to push her gently back inside for safety, tutting at her for leaning out too far.

Never in her life would she have imagined the old Arishok doing such a thing.

It was almost nauseatingly precious to witness.

“Coming to eat with us?” Hawke asked her through the gap.

Aveline smirked. “Yes. I'll be late. I have to approve some shift changes first.”

“See, that's the thing. No one else can _do_ your job, because you never _stop_ doing it.”

“Shush, you.”

Hawke grinned, waved, and told her softly as the guards started carrying her away, “Thanks, Aveline. For everything.”

And Aveline, endeared to her insane friend, merely waved back, softly whispering, “You're welcome, Hawke. For _everything_.”

 

 

 

 

\------------------------------

 

 

Between Lumia's fantastic cooking and help, donations from the Hanged Man, and specially made, fast prepared desserts from Hawke's favorite Lowtown baker, the dinner was lovely.

Hawke had an especially fun time getting Ash to try everything in front of him that wasn't just some leafy greens, loads of roasted meat, or rolls.

“Come on, try this sauce.”

“Proper food has flavor cooked into it.”

“Oh, and your skin is so lovely without your oil? You know what, though, it kind of is. Forget my metaphor.”

“Not the same, Hawke,” Ash replied and tore a chuck of meat from a large leg bone with his sharp teeth next to her. “I do not see you putting that sauce on anything, regardless.”

She grinned impishly. “Well, that's 'cause I don't like it. But Bethany loves cranberry sauce, and you might, too.”

The look sent her way told her he did not believe her.

And so it went with a few more items of food until he gave in and sampled some of the desserts, finding he actually rather liked one of the chocolate flourless cakes and took a few pieces from it.

Utterly stuffed after Aveline showed up and scrounged herself up a plate, Hawke rested by the fire in the living room while Merrill aided Lumia in the kitchen with some mild clean up issues.

“Ahh,” Hawke sighed, full, happy, and wishing Varric were here. She had one hell of a letter to write him about it all.

Ash snickered at her, stretched against the sofa as Aveline took the other chair opposite Hawke across the fire. “Satisfied, _kadan_?”

“Very. Mm, so good. I missed home.”

“It missed you, too. Can't count the letters and words on the street about your return,” Aveline admitted while cutting into her piece of cake on her lap. “The city  _does_ seem more right with you here."

Hawke smiled to herself, one hand on her quite round stomach. “I know.”

“I did not miss it. I thought I'd long forget the _smell_ of it all,” Ash murmured, smirking as Hawke stuck her tongue out.

“So it might stink a little. It's a city.”

Aveline licked frosting from her finger and raised her brows. “I can concede his point, though.”

Hawke stroked over her stomach, warmed by the fire and by the exchange of looks between her husband and friend. Her dark eyes caught the fire's light brightening her ring, and she glanced over it again, still surprised to see it: just a simple gold band, nothing fancy or ridiculous, but even so...to Hawke it was easily one of her most treasured possessions already.

Ash noticed her doing it and looked to his own ring. She knew he felt a bit strange about it, about everything, honestly, and she appreciated him going out so far on a limb for her comfort. For her concerns to protect their child inside of her.

“I wish Mother were here,” Hawke softly spoke, catching looks of concern from both Ash and Aveline without them noticing it spread across their faces. “She'd constantly be on me about little things with pregnancy or the house. Probably yell at Ash to be sure he always had his boots off at the door. But she'd still be proud, I think, of me and of Bethany studying magic with the Inquisition for a while.”

“I agree,” Aveline said firmly with support. “Leandra loved you dearly. She was a kind woman.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Do you know your mother, Ash?” Aveline asked, curiously as she finished her cake.

Ash shook his head, the long white hair hanging down the open “v” of his red shirt making Hawke want to drool staring at him. “No. Under the Qun, we are not...given such familial units as your cultures are.”

Aveline raised a brow, then, and checked her opinion with a low cough once Hawke stared her down. “I...see. This will be different for you to experience, I expect?”

“Yes.”

“You know they say humans always dominate in mixed blood situations.”

Ash outright laughed, the snark so loud in it and amusing for Hawke, and he sneered. “Perhaps for some pairings. How many Qunari mixed children have _you_ seen, guardswoman?”

“None,” Aveline retorted. “Which _concerns_ me for the pair of you.”

“I'll be fine,” Hawke immediately replied, understanding. “I've got Merrill learning what she can from elven healers and mothers in the Alienage. I've got Lumia's help. I've got _yours_.”

“Mine? I can't birth a child, you silly thing.”

“Oh, but you're gonna. You're gonna be there and help me bring my son into the world, Aveline, or so help me, I'll crawl up those stairs and birth him right in your fucking office,” Hawke threatened, her eyes wide and insistent.

Ash stared over at Hawke almost the way he used to do when she said something bold and unexpected in the compound.

Aveline chuckled. “The sad thing is that I know you're serious.”

“Oh, I _am_.”

“Well, I wouldn't want that disgusting mess in my office, so I suppose I'll _have_ to do it. I was going to at least guard the home while you were aided, Hawke.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Pff. Nah. You're going to be there pulling my son out while I scream. Need your cool head to get me through it.”

Aveline smiled, really smiled then. “All right, Hawke. Twisting my arm.”

“I haven't yet, but I so can if you just give me ten minutes to get up and walk over there.”

The three of them laughed at that together while the fire continued to crackle.

Hawke yawned, moved to resettle in her chair as she felt some weird sensation in her stomach, and then she froze, her eyes huge.

Ash was instantly at her side on a knee. “What is it? _Kadan_ , speak.”

“I...I don't know...I....”

Aveline got up, too, and sat her empty plate upon the sofa. “Hawke?”

Hawke's hand spread over her stomach, and she felt it again.

And then it hit her what the sensation was, and she teared up.

Before either of her dear people could drill more questions at her, Hawke reached for Ash's fingers and pressed them to her stomach, silently watching his beautiful eyes as they, too, widened in surprise.

“He's kicking,” Hawke whispered, shocked.

Aveline straightened, clearly calmed now from her concern.

But Ash just kept staring down at her belly, at his hand and at where the little foot was pushing against it off and on over the next full minute.

“This might sound dumb,” Hawke began, knowing it sure as hell did in her mind, “but sometimes...I forget how _real_ he is until something happens. I know he's there, of course, but...but this....”

“He is strong,” Ash murmured and bent, nuzzling her stomach with care. “Our _imekari_ is testing his world already.”

“Best be careful, Hawke. He might get your head for adventure and be very ornery.”

“Oh, please,” Hawke laughed and beckoned Aveline closer when the sensation moved slightly. “Want to feel?”

Aveline blanched. “Well. I....”

“Get over here, or I'll tell Donnic how you came _begging_ me for help.”

“Shut up,” Aveline barked, but obeyed, bending to touch her stomach. Hawke was happy to witness the warm smile move from her friend's eyes to her lips, and she patted her belly once before letting go. “We'll keep him safe, Hawke. On _that_ you have my word. I'll do everything I can.”

“Thank you,” Hawke said, voice breaking. “Thanks, Aveline.”

“Shh, now.”

“Fine.”

“By the way...where's Gamlen? Figured your uncle would have swung by in shock, at least.”

Hawke wiped her face as Ash moved to grab some furs to lay over her lap and keep her warm. “I sent a letter, but the boy came back saying Uncle wasn't home. He was likely visiting my cousin somewhere today. I'll send another letter this week. He has Lilette, and I want her home, too.”

Aveline readily nodded. “Yes. That dog would make _me_ feel better by being here.”

Ash didn't look so convinced, but Hawke knew he would, given some time.

After all, there was nothing more loyal than a mabari, and _none_ so damn cute as Lilette.  
  


 


	38. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

Gamlen briskly walked through Hightown, still in mild shock at the letter in his hand. It was a damn near summons from his niece, stating she was back in town and wished for her dog so as to free him of the help given to her. It explained that she would be staying home, and that Bethany was with the Inquisition for the time being, helping against the Red Templars.

As much as his surviving nieces annoyed him, particularly Camilla with her strong will and stronger Hawke head, Gamlen had felt some genuine concern over their well being. Camilla had been the one to reunite him with a daughter he'd never known he'd even had, while all together his nieces and their friends had restored the fortune he'd lost, getting their home back for Leandra and letting his sister enjoy life before she was horrifically murdered.

The murder itself still haunted him, just as the image of finding Camilla sitting in front of her fireplace after the fact did. She'd been staring into the flames as if it were a demon communicating to her silently, beckoning her into some abyss. Such darkness had been on his niece's face, and despite how much he did hold grudge and bitterness against the girl...she'd killed the man responsible, held Leandra in her last terrifying moments of blood magic ritual. And for that Gamlen would always be grateful to his niece.

But this...summons? It was strange. A young street rat had delivered it, saying he'd already been paid a silver to do so by the Champion herself. Everyone knew where Gamlen lived in Lowtown; Hawke knew it would get delivered. And if the boy had kept the silver and ran for it, the men in the Hanged Man would have taught the lad a lesson about disrespect, that was for certain.

With the tan dog leashed at his side—yes, he leashed the mongrel because despite the time stuck together the animal still seemed to dislike him, feeling forlorn, just about as much as he felt—Gamlen approached the home his niece had reclaimed. The dog, Lilette, bounced around, barking excitedly as she sniffed about the pathway.

At least the mabari's intelligence had made looking after her somewhat bearable.

Gamlen huffed as she got louder. “Silence, you mutt. Your bark is louder than a king's parade!”  
  
The dog actually stopped bouncing, looked at him, and narrowed her eyes. Gamlen narrowed his back, in an almost tradition at this point.

Two guards stationed nearby called out to him, but upon recognizing both he and the dog, allowed him through. Security had changed greatly since the Chantry explosion and the breaking of the Circle.

Thankfully the animal stayed quiet as they approached the door. Gamlen stared for a moment at the huge door knocker, then grabbed it, slamming it twice heavily. After a few moments, the heavy door slightly cracked, and a young dark headed elven woman stared through it. “Yes, ser?”

”Tell your Mistress I have her blasted mutt for her,” Gamlen muttered, noticing the woman wasn't the same one that had been employed previously. “I must speak with my niece, elf.”

Lilette barked excitedly, no doubt smelling Camilla's scent on everything refreshed. The door suddenly opened wide, and the elf stepped to the side with a bow of her head. “Please, enter. She said to expect you, missere.”

An Orlesian accent? How strange. Gamlen snorted under his breath, entering the hall as the servant shut the heavy door behind him. The dog went crazy barking, straining the leash he'd made for her. “Would you quiet, dog!”  
  
“ _Parshaara_!”

Instantly the dog shut up.  
  
Gamlen's eyes widened in huge shock as someone walked toward him from the living room and its large staircase to the second floor. A roaring fire was nearby in the fireplace, and the elf flitted back toward the kitchen, pausing as the figure came into clear view for the entrance hall.  
  
“Maker,” Gamlen whispered, taking in the humongous Qunari in front of him.

The beast must have stood near seven feet, not counting those impressive horns off his head. White, immaculate hair hung down either side of his face onto his chest. Black armor encased a broad, thick torso, and there were guards for his shoulders, arms and legs. Gamlen watched the elven servant bow with respect to the Qunari, who merely nodded and turned his deadly focus on him and the now very silent dog.

Gamlen sneered down at the mabari. “Good to know you'll protect me, you stupid dog.”

The Qunari came closer with measured steps, strange dark eyes with golden coloring tight on him. A massive, speculative frown graced his features before he glanced to the dog, tilting his huge head in consideration. “You must be the uncle,” the Qunari spoke.

It was the same deep, commanding voice that had shut the dog up.

Brows rising, Gamlen nodded, voice rough as he spoke loudly, “I am, and this mabari bitch is my niece's, come back to her now. Where is my niece, and why is there a Qunari in the family home?”

Instead of answering his questions, the Qunari before him tilted his large head back. “Be quiet.”

“Excuse me? I demand answers, beast. Why does the elf bow to you? Where is Camilla?” Growing actually worried something was seriously going on, Gamlen considered bending fast and unsnapping the dog's leash; the mabari was in a defensive position, just watching the creature before her with deadly silence.

“I am no beast, _basra_ ,” the Qunari sneered down at him, and Gamlen felt himself shrink a little. “ _Kadan_ is resting upstairs. She is not to be disturbed. Leave the dog and go.”  
  
Gamlen's patience ran out, even while he worried for his own safety. “Absolutely not. My niece and I have things to discuss, Qunari. I demand you retrieve her.”  
  
The Qunari took two steps forward, the threat as clear as the two huge weapons on his back. Those eyes viciously narrowed on him, and somehow the dog didn't growl. Just kept sniffing. Gamlen wanted to stand his ground, but his feet moved backward involuntarily. The Qunari raised his lip, sharp teeth showing as he lowered his brow. “You do not get to make demands, human. I am no servant.”

“Why are you here?” Gamlen brazenly asked, struggling with the sheer effect of the intimidation the Qunari generated in the room.

“Because she wishes it.” The Qunari growled, the sound terrifying. Thankfully the damn dog finally barked again, a low growl coming from her even as she slightly cowered from the Qunari's glare.

“Silence,” the large ox snapped at her.

Instantly the dog obeyed. Gamlen's mouth dropped open in frustration. Nothing scared or silenced a mabari save their chosen owner—his niece, in this case. Though he had to admit, looking at the Qunari, that he was worth the fright the dog felt. Unless the damn dog was just respectful of the sheer brute force of the being before them; honestly, he figured it was a bit of both.

“You...you damn betrayer, mutt!”

“My _kadan_ will speak with you when she is ready. Wait in the parlor or leave. But do not disturb,” came the dark warning.

“See here! This isn't your home! You don't give orders to people, Qunari, and certainly not to your master's family!” Gamlen shouted, furious that the ox would dare speak to him this way.

The creature's eyes lit up, and his hand twitched at his side, no doubt considering pulling one of the big weapons from his back. “Hawke is not my master, ignorant human. You are nothing to me. And yes, as of now, this is my home.”

“How dare you! Camilla! Camilla, I demand you come down here at once, girl!”

Before he could move the Qunari had shot forward and backed him up, scaring him to death. “Speak again, and I will take your tongue, human. And if you've woken her, I will take your head and put it on the gate for my amusement.”

Gamlen let go of the dog's leash and shook as the monster stepped even closer, death in his face. But everything immediately paused, as if with magic, with a simple call from the balcony.

Gamlen noticed the Qunari freeze, anger on his face easily discernible, before he looked beyond the beast and saw Camilla standing near the top of the stairs in some loose bed clothing and a robe.  
  
“ _Kadan_ , his head is not worthy of your weapons,” his niece said very tiredly. “I will speak with Uncle.”

The Qunari glared at him, then jerked around, looking up toward his niece as well. “No. Rest.”  
  
“I will see this taken care of now. It'll be all right. Lilette? Sit, girl. Be patient,” Camilla called as the dog whined up at her, bobbed tail wagging excitedly against the floor. “Ash, please see if Lumia has my snack. I don't think I'll last until dinner.”  
  
“Do not come down the stairs without my aid,” the Qunari grumbled, but nodded and walked into the hall to the left.

Gamlen dumbly stared after him before looking back up. “Camilla, what in Thedas is going on here? A Qunari servant? There are guards enough outside. Do not invite such danger.”

His niece sighed, rubbed her face and gripped the banister that wrapped around the balcony. “Enough, Uncle Gamlen. If you continue to antagonize Ash, I might not stop him from beating you.”

Seconds later the Qunari reentered and, with a narrowed flick of his gaze over Gamlen, stalked to the stairs, climbing them quickly. “Must you do this now, Hawke?”

“Yes. Trust me.”

“Fine,” the Qunari grunted with a huff. “Do not rush.”

“I know, I know,” his niece muttered like a chastised child and took the large brute's hand, gently walking down the stairs with him.

Gamlen frowned in complete confusion. What was wrong with Camilla? Why was she moving so stiffly, so slowly? What would cause her to need aid going down her own staircase? And just why was that damn Qunari here, helping her, watching her every move as he gently held her hand to steady her? It was utterly bizarre, even for his niece.

When she finally got to the last step, she exhaled and squeezed her grip on the huge hand holding hers, then smiled up at the Qunari. “Thank you, Ash.”

Lilette barked, wriggling on the floor with want to dart to her mistress. Camilla grinned at the dog, and with effort and a strong helping hand from the Qunari at her side, lowered to her knees. “Come, baby girl. Be gentle.”

The dog shot forward, drool flying and making Gamlen's lip curl. Maker knew the animal had chewed and drooled over enough of his things to warrant replacements. But he took a moment to watch his niece interact with the bloody mongrel, seeing it lick all over her face and jump excitedly.

“Sit, girl. Good. Easy. Have to be easy. You've got a lot to adapt to, and you'll be a great protector, won't you? Yes you will!”

The Qunari seemed hesitant about the mabari near his niece, which confused Gamlen more. Why was the big ox so protective of her? Did he not understand the loyalty of mabari to their owners? It was strange.

Camilla petted the dog's head repeatedly, then pointed upward. “That is Ash, Lilette. You will obey him, listen to him. Okay?”

Thank the Maker the dog sniffed suspiciously. Gamlen felt better at that. But then his niece took one of the Qunari's hands and brought it down for the mabari to sniff out.

“He won't hurt you, so don't you hurt him. I need you, sweet puppy. There are people who might want to hurt me and what I have,” his niece said and changed the direction of the dog's face toward her. Gamlen couldn't see what she was doing, but the tail kept going, and Camilla only murmured encouragements for a few moments.  
  
Finally his niece rose back up with help of the Qunari—named Ash, apparently—and sat in one of the high backed chairs near the fire. She waved her hand across from her to another chair, indicating for him to sit. Gamlen quietly did so, eyeing how tired she looked. It honestly worried him, if only because after Leandra's death and the discovery of his own daughter...he felt some sort of true responsibility toward his nieces. “What is wrong with you, child? You look...exhausted.”

“It's just been a rough night or two,” she said, patting her knee. The mabari instantly sat at her side, jaws resting over her knee and licking her fingers. “Uncle Gamlen, I want to first thank you for taking care of Lilette. I'll be sure you're given recompense for anything needed.”

“I would appreciate it. The mongrel destroyed some of my things,” he grumbled, hand under his chin on the armrest. “She barely behaved for me.”

“Mabari only listen to those they choose in respect. Sorry, Uncle,” Camilla lightly laughed, looking better in that moment as she patted the dog's heavy head, both lifting briefly as the Qunari shook out a fur from a nearby chest and draped it over her front.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him gratefully.

To Gamlen's surprise Ash moved to the sofa between them, sitting upright, angled to view him and protect Camilla. The dog suddenly moved from Camilla's lap, sniffing nervously around the Qunari, rear to the ground as she looked up wanting attention. Ash slowly rested a huge hand over her head, stroking behind her ears with his claws. The tan dog immediately panted in happiness and cuddled against his long, shapely bent legs.

“She likes you,” his niece said with a large smile.

“Strange,” Ash grunted, glancing down as he kept scratching the dog's ear and getting that little tail to wag.  
  
Gamlen rolled his eyes at the dog, annoyed that she was so damn friendly with a huge, dangerous stranger when it took him weeks to get such a result. Must have remembered much of the tension when all of them had lived cramped together in his home.

“Gamlen, I would like to formally introduce you to Ash,” his niece gestured toward the Qunari. In that brief second, a shiny object caught his eye near the firelight. Gamlen frowned, then gasped as she held her hand still, noticing him eyeing it.

“Camilla, is that...? Did you...wed?” he asked in gruff surprise.

“Yes.” She tilted her face, grinning toward the Qunari who lifted his own hand, a golden ring glinting there as well. “You've met my husband. He's rather...protective of me, as you'll have noted.”

Gamlen paled, the blood fleeing him as he slowly turned to look back at the giant—his nephew by law! The Qunari seemed equally bothered, if the stare leveled at him was enough to go by. “You married a Qunari? Whatever for? Camilla, this is madness!”

Her smile vanished, and a dark look stole across her features. “I have known him many years and only recently reunited. I love him, and he loves me. And that is enough. Since you are family, I wanted you to be aware. Gossip will call him many things.”

“I'd heard some mercenary was here with you, but I figured it one of your companions,” Gamlen said, eyes still wide. His niece had wedded a blasted Qunari. How shocking! At least the giant looked...presentable, sitting like a damn king on the couch with those horns of his and the mabari at his side.

“And that is not all. We were fighting with the Inquisition, part of some battles and doing other things, but we have decided it would be best for us to have done our part and come home.” Camilla adjusted until she was comfortable under the fur, her dark eyes on him as her golden hair tumbled down her shoulders with each lean. “Make no mistake Gamlen, this is our home. Ash has legal rights to it as my husband.”

“I...well, yes, but how...?”

“You probably heard the word _kadan_ earlier. It means...loved one, mostly. We married strictly for safety's sake; otherwise we wouldn't have needed the human ceremony. For Qunari, we were already partnered,” she explained softly, the fire crackling next to her.

Gamlen sat back, trying to fathom all of this. “You never give up. Why would you return?”

She closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them with renewed strength. “Because,” she spoke, softly smiling at him. “I carry a son.”

He almost fell out of his chair. His niece pregnant with a Qunari's spawn? Maker, this was atrocious. “Camilla, have you lost your blessed mind? Your mother would have a fit! You...child, you cannot just...just...marry a Qunari and birth his spawn!”

Ash growled at him darkly, and the damn dog did the same after him. “You walk on broken ground, human.”

“Well? She cannot! Her reputation will be in tatters for this,” Gamlen asserted, just so blindsided by all of the news.

Camilla herself looked like an angry Andraste, so righteous in the fire's slight glow in the afternoon with her golden hair. “Do not insult me, Gamlen, nor my husband or my unborn child. Uncle or not, it will not end well for you.”

“But...child, consider what you've done!”

“I am no child!” she snapped loudly, voice echoing fiercely around the tall room. “I single-handedly saved countless lives in this city, then even more with others I trusted. You have done no such thing. I have fought with the Inquisition to protect Thedas itself. You have not. I have spoken with King Alistair of Ferelden in person recently. You could never get close enough to lick his boots. I am no child. I am a woman, I have been through utter darkness, and I have come through with the gift of a family, no matter how unorthodox it may be.”

Gamlen's jaw dropped at her impressive speech delivered so strongly, so flawlessly as she sat like a queen with that kingly Qunari to his left of her.

His niece was accomplished; that was never in doubt. It was...habit to call her child, since before he'd reunited with Leandra upon their arrival from Lothering, Camilla had been but a toddler the last time he'd seen her. But he also called her child because to him the decisions were beyond immature and reckless. Perhaps, though...he was wrong, at least somewhat.  
  
“Have you considered the damage this will cause you?” he asked, staring at her.

“Plenty. For months. I do not care. I have never cared for the socialite gatherings and bickering, only to give Mother what she deserved—her restored state. And now this is my home, and it is where I will raise my child unless safety is compromised too much. I have traveled so far and so much, and now I need rest. I need to prepare for my son.”

“Well...this explains rumors that you'd returned and sequestered. Also the presence of a new Qunari, though the ones near the Hanged Man seem to approve of him,” Gamlen admitted, recalling overhearing conversations in the pub. He considered the horned man anew, trying to look at him from a blank slate like his daughter would want him to do. “You...love my niece? You understand what she has sacrificed for you?”

That piercing gaze tightened. “Yes. I sacrificed as much.”

“That so?”  
  
“Yes, Gamlen. He has nearly lost his life more than once for it.” Camilla said, then yawned, covering her mouth as she saw the elf reappear with a tray. “Oh, excellent, Lumia!”

The servant smiled, eyes darting to Gamlen with curiosity, before she sat the tray in front of his niece, lifting the cover for the light, steamy pile of tender meat and greens to hit his nostrils.

This was a snack? He was awed by it, as well as his niece's appetite as she thanked the elf and quickly dug into the meat, almost wolfing it down.

The Qunari, however, was looking at her with...what might be genuine approval and amusement. Gamlen stared at the big man, wowed, as Ash said quietly, “My son is growing stronger each day. You are doing well, Hawke.”

“I'm trying. Maker, he's rough sometimes,” Camilla laughed between bites, a hand dropping below the furs to her stomach.

Gamlen ignored the smell of the delicious food and crossed a knee over the other. “How far along are you with it?”

“About half or more. I've been told my love's kind grow quicker toward the middle and relax a little longer before birthing,” she explained, cutting into the meat again and reaching for the goblet of water on the tray. “I am large enough that public appearance is...worrisome. Thus the looser clothing.”

“Yes, you must be safe,” Gamlen absolutely agreed.

Despite her situation, she, Bethany and his daughter were all the family he had, and all three women managed to...give a shit about his low self.

He could see his words had surprised both she and the Qunari.

Camilla smiled a little bit at him. “Thank you, Uncle, for concern. I have runners hired, serving boys who bring items purchased from merchants I'm friendly with. I've explained I've been exhausted from fighting with the Inquisition and need space to heal. After enough of the rumors they've heard, they're understanding; although I did put in a few appearances when we first arrived with the Hanged Man. I got Ash some work to keep him busy and to build him a network.”

“So, Ash...you are from the Qunari homeland?”

“Yes.” Very simple, very direct. Very...not willing to answer beyond that.

“You seem very well-armed. I assume you can use those deadly things well?”

“Yes.”

Maker, it was like speaking to a wall. Gamlen must have looked annoyed enough, because Camilla gave him a brief grin between bites. “Ash is not...welcoming with people he does not know. But yes, he's very talented and very intelligent. He's been an excellent mate and now husband, and I know he will be the best father.”

Ash shifted on the cushions, looking as tight and narrowed as before, but his body language betrayed a little nervousness...or so Gamlen liked to think. Maker, throw him a bone. “I only found through my nieces about my own daughter not so long ago. Fatherhood, even at this late stage, is...strange. Difficult, yet...rewarding.”

“I look forward to it,” the giant said, eyes on Camilla's belly under the fur. “Our _imekari_ is special. Strong. He will be great.”

“Your...what?”

“It means child,” Camilla explained to him. “My husband has left the Qun, Gamlen. Do not worry. But some things, like language, aren't easy to shed, and I wouldn't ask him to do so.”

“Ah. I see.” Gamlen pursed his mouth. “And you'll be raising the child here.”

“Unless safety is compromised, yes.”

Gamlen slowly smiled at that. “Dear girl, I think you've earned enough loyalty to keep you safe in this city. Even the cutpurses know better than to pinch you.”

Camilla grinned. “That, and I know all of them personally.”

“Well, if you are happy, then...good. This home could use some happiness, considering its trembling past,” Gamlen grunted and pushed out of the chair with a slight bow of his head. “I will give you list of recompense for your...mutt's behavior.”

“Anything you need, Uncle. Thank you again.”

Lilette moved from her position near Ash and sniffed at Gamlen's fingers. He watched in mild amusement as the dog considered him, then rose up, large paws on his shoulders, and licked his face. Gamlen coughed and wiped the drool from his cheek, patting the animal's head as he told her, “Down, you mongrel. You behave for her, now. No recklessness, or that great man there will eat you.”

The dog's head swung back to Ash, then Camilla, and Gamlen chuckled to himself as his niece rolled her eyes. “Silly girl, Ash will never eat you.”

Gamlen watched Lilette sniff at Ash with some nervousness again, but the Qunari gave a soft half-lift of his mouth and reached down to scratch her ears and under her jaw with those claws of his, getting that little tail going all over again. Gamlen smirked at that and gave another bow of his head. “Rest easy, niece. I always received letters from Leandra after you pups were birthed. She maintained, though the twins were a deep struggle. Do not overdo. Your...father...with his magic is not here to fix you as he was her.”

“I have others in his stead,” Camilla assured him. “I thank you for the concern and will keep you updated, of course. Family, aren't we?”

“Indeed.” Gamlen sniffed, nodded at the large Qunari, and spun on his heel, leaving his niece's home in Hightown with a considerable shake of his head at the new reality coming to them all.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spacing issue due to mobile/bluetooth uploading fixed.  
> Sigh. You try to do the fast thing, and you get screwed. -.-


	39. The Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

  
  
  
  
  
The dog was strange to him. He'd, of course, heard before of the famed mabaris of Ferelden and their intelligence, but as he'd yet to meet one, he'd not quite...believed said tales. Now here was Lilette bringing Hawke anything she asked for by name without pointing, knowing when to help lean against her mistress to support her, when to be quiet and be alert.

While she was loving with them, Ash could tell the animal held great capability for violence. A minor incident with a rat in the cellar proved that point. Hawke and Lumia had been going through pantry items when Ash's tender hearing caught the dog's snarl, and he'd run from the kitchen where he'd been moving heavy boxes down the stairs into the cellar, only to see the damn dog ripping a huge rat to shreds. Hawke hadn't even been surprised. She had patted Lilette on the head and told her to take the carcass outside to eat it if she would, and the dog had obeyed, walking past Ash and his raised brows without a care.

Ash had spent a week getting familiar with the dog. He was impressed foremost by her loyalty and brain, then by her size; such an animal was rather large for a house pet, he gathered, yet Lilette seemed to fit right into their home, like a piece that had been missing. And when she had eagerly taken up sleeping in a fashioned bed for her at the foot of _their_ bed, Ash had been fine with it. Something had just felt more secure because of it, despite his very brief initial reservations. She'd slowly warmed to Ash as well, taking her time to sniff and be petted before asking for more affection.

One night as he rested over the couch by the fire, gazing into it mindlessly while Hawke sifted through letters at her desk, the dog came to his side and promptly sat, large dark eyes waiting. Ash raised one of his heavy brows, wondering what the animal might want as her nose twitched and she slowly inched her paw forward. The slow grin on his face was priceless as the large foot rested upon his knee. Deciding to experiment with her a little, Ash held out a hand and sat still. Lilette sniffed, looked to his hand, then his eyes, and flopped her paw into it; he shook it with a low chuckle, muttering, “Good dog.”

That seemed to be what she wanted to hear—her ass wiggled against the floor, bobbed tail moving fast, and she licked her chops with a slight whine.

Hawke's voice caught their mutual attentions as she called over her shoulder, “She wants in your lap. I found her when she was young, and she used to sit in my lap. She obviously got a big large for me. That's...probably why I had to replace Uncle's chair, actually.”

Ash turned his face, glancing down to the dog in thought as the animal mirrored his expression and whined again, the paw moving back to his knee with a few pats. He leaned back against the cushions and rested his other bent knee, then carefully tapped his thigh once. Instantly the big dog was upon him, her weight heavy but fine for his strength as she shifted on her bony feet and lay across his lap, head against his chest while she panted. He laughed, unable to help himself, when she hesitantly leaned up to lick his chin with that big tongue of hers.

He patted her large side, rubbing with his claws how she seemed to enjoy, until the animal was satiated and falling asleep on him, like a heavy, breathing blanket. Well, that was until the loud knocker of the main doors echoed through the house. In an instant Lilette was off his lap, ears back and teeth bared as she bent low and stalked toward the door with a soft growl. Ash narrowed his eyes, disliking her immediate suspicious behavior—over the past week of runners and visitors, she'd been well behaved and a good indicator of who might be there by scent.

Hawke spun in her chair, eyes large as Ash stood and followed the dog. “I am not expecting anyone, dearest.”

“Hm,” he grunted and grabbed for his sword that had been hung on its rack nearby. Lilette was in front of the door, standing normally, though she was still growling softly. Ash narrowed his eyes and told her to stand down as he yanked one of the heavy doors open a crack. Two human men stood there. One he recognized—someone from the city politics that Hawke personally found distasteful, and the other was some stranger who seemed friendly enough with his puzzled smile. “State your business,” Ash rumbled, as dangerous as Lilette's sound.

The recognizable human swallowed, but turned to the other, saying, “I _told_ you there was Qunari here.”

“How...interesting. I do believe I even know you,” the other man replied, and Ash picked up his far away accent immediately, racking his brain to place it. The human straightened his shoulders and bowed his head to the other. “I can take it from here, Bran. Thank you.”

“You must meet with the rest of us, Majesty. Hawke may be a Champion of the people, but she has no authority,” Bran almost sneered, and Ash remembered why Hawke disliked the annoying man—he was a current stand-in for the city-state Viscount, having been the previous Seneshal to the last who had died while Ash had been here. The idiot  _bas_ who'd been there for the marriage.

The other human with his large blue eyes stared down Bran, unimpressed, and won some respect from Ash for it. “It would be dangerous to believe that,” the man murmured and looked back to Ash. “Hello. Is Lady Hawke home?”

Ash glanced once down to Lilette, watching her calm as Bran walked back up the path toward the streets. Ah. Even the mabari hated the human. Excellent girl. “And you are?” he grunted, but opened the door slightly more.

“An old friend of hers. Sebastian. I _swear_ I've seen you before.”

Oh. Now he recalled—this had been one of the many companions Hawke had brought with her to the old compound. Ash backed away and held the sword to the side so Sebastian could enter. Hawke herself was coming toward them, irritating Ash as he shut the door. “You are to remain back until I say,” he reminded her, always worried for her safety.

“I know, dearest,” Hawke shrugged with an apology before smiling at her friend. “Sebastian! How great to see you. Do come in, and say a proper hello to my husband, won't you?”

Sebastian's elegant brows arched, but he turned and bowed properly to Ash, surprising him. “So you're wed! How lovely. Nice to meet you...?”

“Ash,” he murmured, realizing what the human was waiting for.

“Ash. Hawke, I know this man, do I not?”

“Oh yes,” his _kadan_ answered as she turned with a smile.

Sebastian frowned a little and waited for Ash to walk back into the living room and re-situate his sword on the rack. The moment Ash turned with the fire's light on his face, the human backed up in shock. “Oh. Maker. Yes...yes, I do.”

Ash snickered under his breath and lightly stroked Hawke's hair. “I remember now. The worrying one. Very...religious and fond of bows.”

“Indeed he is,” Hawke teased Sebastian. “Though I hear congratulations are in order, _your majesty_.”

Sebastian blushed a bit. “Well, yes. I took your advice and went home to Starkhaven. After some...consideration and family issues, I was crowned with power and rule. Unfortunately it was near the time of the Conclave, and I couldn't...help so quickly. I've sent some supportive troops to the Inquisition, of course, once I heard you and the Seeker Cassandra were part of the organization. I knew I could trust then, Hawke.”

“And here you are, so far from home again. What for? Just a friendly visit?” Hawke asked and backed toward her chair with Ash's help and asked him to remove her outer robe to his annoyance; Ash would much rather keep their child a secret, but most of her companions who'd come by were told anyway. He lay the robe over the back of her chair, catching the prince's eyes zone in right on her belly. “Oh, yes. Sebastian, meet my son.”

“Maker, you _have_ been busy with life,” the man murmured, round eyes on her with a slight smile.

Hawke grinned, relaxing Ash some as he bent and sniffed her brow, checking her scent for random illness or other issues. Satisfied, he brushed his nose to her skin and moved back to the couch, patting his leg. Lilette came forward and rested her face on his knee, her eyes on Sebastian. Hawke's friend waved at the dog and murmured to her, getting her tail to wag. Ash deemed him acceptable because of it.

Sebastian sat on the other end of the couch, tilted to face both of them. “Well, I actually wanted to speak with you, Hawke. It's rather imperative.”

“Then by all means.”

“Kirkwall is...in dire need of structure,” Sebastian said, glancing briefly around the room, “and I aim to give it some. After what happened here—what I was part of, Hawke—I must do this.”

Ash's eyes flared as his female sat upright, her grip on her chair dark. Not good.

Hawke took a deep breath through her nose. “If you mean to say you will be sending your troops _here_ , you will encounter the structure you believe to be weak. And it will fight you to its death.”

Invasion. Ash snorted at the idea of yet another human society trying to invade and conquer another with no real change like the Qun would bring.

Sebastian, however, spread his hands. “Hawke, you barely have a Chantry here in the stead of the past one as its building is being fixed new. The people need guidance, the economy needs adjusted, and it needs a new reputation after Meredith. There must be stability in this craziness in Thedas.”

“And you believe the Maker himself has told you that it is for _you_ to do so?” Hawke countered, almost dangerously. Ash sat, watching silently, proud of her fierceness and wishing he could give her her own dais. “That, dear friend, is the other side of the sovereign we spoke of long ago. You could not embrace the church and go home, so you came here. You went home and have regained your...ego, it seems.”

“Hawke, you've returned. Do you not see my words here?”

“Of course I do. But I have also seen great change since we left originally. Strides have been made that you have not noticed in detail. And Varric, bless him, will be of utmost asset when he comes home. He has many ideas to share with the nobility for the docks and economics, and could get things rolling with his Merchants Guild.”

“And that is a risk, betting on his availability and luck.”

Hawke tilted her face, lips pursed. “Sebastian, this is my home. This is Varric's home. This was never your home. Let us handle our home.”

Sebastian leaned back ever so slightly, catching Ash's attention. “You will...stand against me if I do?”

“I would welcome you if it were still as it was after the Circle's destruction. But it is clearly on a climbing path to restoration and betterment as is, and I would see more faith given to its people by allowing them to atone their sins and care for their own,” Hawke said, hands dropping from the chair to rest over her belly. It was something she did often now, and Ash rather enjoyed each instance of it. “The city has seen enough bloodshed, and the Chantry must prove to us that it should be welcomed here again after it had so much corruption locally. I do not condone what Anders has done—I killed him for it, as you'll recall. But think of Petrice. Think of her betters. Think on it all.”

Ash adjusted on his end of the couch, disliking the expression on the other human's face. Even Lilette gave a huffing mimicry of a bark. Sebastian finally sighed and rubbed his face. “I only wish for peace. To help.”

“Swords aimed at us for our betterment will not be seen as either, my friend. Consider another avenue. The rebuilding of the Chantry is slow both for funding and workers, despite the employment of most of Lowtown. You could donate funds or manpower,” Hawke offered wisely, looking rather regal as she did so. "There are people still needing shelter. Aid. Give to them."

Sebastian slowly smiled. “Thank you, Hawke. I knew I needed to speak with you. There has been...pressure...to take Kirkwall into Starkhaven's breast in our politics, let alone my own personal reasons. I will attempt your suggestions and take them back home with me. They may be enough to silence the rest and show support. Perhaps an alliance.”

“I'm glad to hear it, Sebastian.”

“Though the sooner you can get someone else in the Viscount's seat to kick Bran out, the better,” Sebastian mumbled. “What a foul person.”

Hawke started laughing at that, making Ash smile inwardly, and she tapped her belly with her fingers. “Oh, I've plans.”

Ash stared her down. “ _Shanedan_ , Hawke.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry dearest, didn't mean to worry you. Not me. I'm tired of that pressure.” His _kadan_ smirked. “Varric.”

Sebastian sat back, hand at his chin. “My. The nobility might balk at a dwarf on the seat, _but_ he...has an absurd love for this place, and he is blessed in his desire to see it righted.”

“Yep.”

Ash grinned, chuckling to himself as he imagined the dwarf's face upon finding out such a plot. “He will never send you candies again.”

“It's a risk I'm willing to take. He's worth it. And when he's free, I will get him to see that, and the rest of them, too,” Hawke replied with a smirk. “He can work out of the Hanged Man in his free time, keep it as a Lowtown office for their matters.”

“Maker,” Sebastian groaned, rubbing his face. “A pub as a seat of government. And _that_ pub. May Andraste keep them all straight for business, I suppose.”

“They can be serious when they have to be.”

Sebastian merely nodded, then glanced sideways to Ash and back to Hawke. “Might I ask about...this?”

“You mean my once Arishok husband?”

“Yes. The last I saw of the both of you....”

Ash's face darkened. That moment would never leave either of them, trapped forever in the memories of those they knew. He shifted as the dog whined and licked at his fingers and looked down to her as he spoke. “By honor, I should have finished my actions. By choice I did not. My reasons cost me more than you can imagine, human.”

“He loved me,” Hawke murmured, a small smile on her face as she connected eyes with Ash. “And we found one another again after...close calls.”

Sebastian blew out a breath. “Well. That is...good, then. I must admit I quite panicked upon seeing a stranger at first, but I assumed if he were answering the door with your dog that he was welcomed here.”

Hawke actually laughed at that. “This is his home, too. You can imagine, Sebastian, that I am trying to raise my son away from war and fighting that will engulf us.”

Ash smirked at the not-so-subtle threat, noticing the prince of Starkhaven wince, too. “Of course,” Sebastian replied. “You have by far earned that right.”

“Yes. I have.”

“Well, dear friend, I will let you rest. I aim to be back on the road in two days time. Might I call on the both of you again while I am here?”

Hawke nodded regally. “Of course, Sebastian.”

The human smiled graciously and stood, bowing to them both. “Wonderful. Blessed be.”

“The same to you,” Hawke kindly murmured, watching as Ash escorted the prince back out of the home. He turned and watched her, seeing a conflicting expression in her eyes. At his stare she sighed. “He has good intention, but always thinks he knows best. I am, thankfully, one of the very few he actually will listen to. Let us hope it was enough.”

“If he invades with his human foolishness, the city will rise against him. And I will as well.” Ash bent near her, lips brushing her temple. “We will stay safe, _kadan_. You have my word.”

  
  


 


	40. A Favor Returned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

  
  
  
  
Aveline had been called away just a short while ago to handle a matter above most of the guards' heads involving a theft near the Alienage. With an eye roll of great magnitude, her friend stomped out and, with a tight slam of the large door, shouted that if Hawke took  _one step_ outside of it that Aveline would bind her to bed for the rest of her pregnancy.

Bit much, Hawke figured, but she could understand why after all the years Aveline might be so damn prepared in dealing with herself.

Hawke stamped the seal of her letter to Bethany, blowing on it to cool the wax a little faster. Lilette huffed at her feet, looking up at her with eyes of boredom, making Hawke pat her head. “Sorry, girl. We must watch ourselves. Your Papa's orders are no excited movements.”

The dog whined in annoyance.

Hawke smiled to herself and checked over a second letter she'd prepared for Varric, when the doors suddenly opened loudly alongside a snapped bark from Lilette. Ash stormed in, Merc on his heels, and her love looked furious. Worried, Hawke struggled to stand quickly, bracing herself against the desk and Lilette as the dog helped her up. “What is going on?”

“Contact was made,” Ash verbally snapped and extended his hand.

Hawke watched Merc slap a rolled, sealed parchment into it. The other Qunari nodded his smaller horned head. “We were cornered returning from the shores on a job by a  _Ben-Hassrath_ agent.”

“Oh Maker,” Hawke groaned, stomach instantly upset with fear. “What have they decreed? Surely they wouldn't attack an entire city for us.”

Ash ripped open the seal of the parchment, unrolling it roughly without ripping it in his anger. His dark eyes tightened over the writing with a frown. “It....”

“What is it, love?”

“This is not in Qunlat. It is in your tongue. Addressed to you specifically.”

“Let me have it,” Hawke urged, taking it the moment he extended the parchment with controlled rage. Her eyes quickly scanned the document in great surprise, finding not a threat, but a message, and it was from someone she'd known and worked with well before:

 

_Hawke,_

_I wish I could say we meet under the best circumstances, but that's not truth. I do, however, bring you news. Good news. News that will grant you release. But I cannot simply give it this way. I promise this meeting is no trap, no set up. I simply ask to meet you in person to hand you important documents I was not comfortable delivering—after all, we know the history with that and my people, don't we? And I did not need captured or killed in Kirkwall for getting too near your home as a stranger to most there. I promise to you, my friend, that you will not be harmed and should have no fear. Neither you_ nor  _your Arishok love are in danger from me._

_Meet me near the old slaver cave if you can. I hear you're growing big now. Take a litter. Sorry to make it so far, but I have to protect myself. It's just me out here. Just...trust me. You did before, and it was well placed, right?_

_See you soon, my friend. I promise this is worth the effort._

_Tallis_

 

Hawke stared, dumbfounded, while the two Qunari men anxiously awaited her explanation. It seemed so long ago now that she had met Tallis and infiltrated the Duke Prosper's wyvern hunt, winning the hunt and sneaking into the residence to gain the true prize—important Qunari documents the Orlesian Duke had in his possession. Hawke had worked well with Tallis, and, yes, had trusted her. Even imprisoned in the Duke's cells, they'd worked together without fear of one another. Tallis was  _Ben-Hassrath_ then, and she never once turned on Hawke or her group. Even doubled back to help them at one point in the caves. So even though Hawke's instincts screamed to trust this letter of summons, the attacks against she and Ash had been dangerous enough to make her question it.

“What does it say?” Ash demanded, ready to rip the document from her hands and read it for himself. Even Merc looked disturbed.

Hawke blew out a breath and managed to smile encouragingly. “It's a token of faith. One of the  _Ben-Hassrath_ agents worked with me in the past. We were...friends. I know her loyalty was not to me, but I helped her do something very important, and so...a favor was owed. I believe it is now being returned to me. To us, Ash. She writes of bringing documents that will 'give us release,' but would not come into the city on fear she would be captured and the like.”

“How can you believe such things? She is, at most, a loyal spy,” Merc countered, arms crossed over his chest next to Ash.

“Tell me. The agent seen. Was it just one? What was the description?”

Merc grunted as Ash also turned to look at him with deadly observance. “Yes, one. I saw her. Female elf. Reddish hair. Kind of...chatty for an agent.”

“That is Tallis, the one who wrote this.” Hawke looked up into her husband's worried gaze. “Ash, I believe we can trust her.”

“No.”

“Yep.”

“No.”

“ _Ash_.”

“Hawke, no favor would make her deter from duty.”

“Darling, it wasn't just a favor to her. I retook documents that would have exposed other agents and gotten many Qunari killed and gave them  _back_ into Tallis's control, after another Tal-Vashoth sold the documents to a human duke.”

Both Qunari dropped their crossed arms. Ash stared at her in great surprise. “You...were the helper?”

Hawke smirked. “You heard about it? It  _was_ when you were here, after all. Just...not something I told you about. I promised Tallis I'd not state my involvement since it was her duty to get the papers back. Clearly she told  _someone_.”

“I heard whispers from my men about it, and during my imprisonment, I overheard it being spoken in more detail.” Ash stepped closer, making Lilette whine in excitement. But he ignored the dog and took Hawke's hands in his, his eyes on her tightly. “You were  _always_ loyal.”

“I might not agree with the spying, but some of those names were innocents getting protected by converting. There was no way I was selling that information,” she explained hotly, squeezing his fingers. “Do you see why I believe her offer genuine now?”

Ash contemplated her answer for a moment while Merc snorted. “Perhaps she's right.”

“And if she is not?” Ash turned darkly upon the other Qunari. “Then what happens?”

Merc shrugged without care. “Then we kill the agent. My men have made our refusal of the Qun's presence clear.”

“Don't kill her. She saved my life once,” Hawke griped and let go of Ash with a wince as the baby kicked hard. “ _Oh_.”

“ _Kadan,_ are you ill?” Ash asked, coming around her side to look at her intensely.

She shook her head with a smirk and a hand on her stomach. “No.  _Your son_ is in a kicking mood and beating about my insides.”

Merc chuckled and took a few steps away, patting his leg to get Lilette's attention and rub the dog's back. Ash smirked at Hawke, his own hand coming down to rest over hers and feeling the little movements inside of her. She smiled as her love bent to his knees and nuzzled her stomach with his nose. “ _Parshaara_ , son. All is fine.”

“Of course he listens to  _you_ ,” Hawke grunted as the baby calmed down and only slightly moved after hearing Ash's rough voice.

“As he should. As you should.”

“I do. So listen to  _me_ on this, okay? Tallis never did me wrong before, and...Ash, she speaks as if she has proof that we will be safe. I must know what it is. If you go without me, she will run. She will see it as distrust. It is me she needs to see, and Kirkwall is too dangerous for her.”

Ash shook his head as he stood up once more. “Hawke, the situation is too unpredictable. You would be too far from home, even with us at your side.”

“Yes, well, I do have the litter, and I do trust you to protect me. Plus, I can always take Aveline.” Ash's look of annoyance made her smile a little. “Or...Merrill?”

“The mage will come in case you need healing,” Ash finally acquiesced and looked over his shoulder at the other Qunari. “You will join us.”

“Certainly. I have my word to keep. I can have others waiting.”

Hawke shook her head negatively. “No. That shows we have other motives. We go, just the three of us with Merrill. Tallis will remember her.”

Merc gave her a cocky grin. “All right, Hawke. Whenever you're ready.”

“Do not empower her in this,” Ash grumbled, staring her down with what was clear frustration. “Her recklessness is already strong enough.”

Hawke pretended to be hurt, a hand to her chest as she coughed, “My, dear, what faith.”

“There is a city full of people who know what I mean, Hawke.”

“Oh fine, yes,” she laughed and winked at him. “Merc, find Merrill. I'll get ready. The sooner we deal with this, the safer we'll be.”

“Hope you're right, Hawke, because your  _kadan_ will take my head for a trophy if you're wrong,” Merc muttered and spun on his heel for the door, waving as she called out a goodbye.

Hawke cocked a brow at her husband, who had watched Merc go with a strange expression on his face. “You know, he runs his business and his men, yet...it sure seems he is  _your second_.”

“One may be capable, yet still acknowledge superiority of skill.”

“ _Maker,_ love, you will always be your role in a way,” she teased and reached for his large hand. “Help me change, then we'll get the litter.”

Ash scooped her up gently and carried her up the staircase, his eyes on her with a mixture of amusement and frustrated determination. “You will be the death of me.”

“Nah. You like our bed far too much to die in it.”

A low chuckle made her smile as he shut their bedroom door behind him.

 

 

[----------]

 

 

 

Oh, what a terrible idea. Hawke tried to control her anxiety and breathing as they left the city, having slipped themselves out later in the evening. Aveline was put on alert if they did not return or make contact within several hours, and the Guard Captain was  _not_ happy that Ash had finally given into Hawke's agreement for the meeting.

At least Merrill was in good spirits, like usual. She pranced near the litter alongside the two Qunari pulling it, glancing inside now and then and handing Hawke flowers off the ground. It made Hawke smile to see her friend so happy and free of the darkness that had consumed her in her own guilt over the blood magic and the eluvian.

“The wee one could be surrounded by puppies if you find a breeder for Lilette, you know.”

“Merrill, if you want a puppy, get one. I cannot have a litter of pups  _and_ a newborn son at the same time.”

“But, Hawke, how precious would it be!”

Hawke chuckled as Ash grunted to her left, his nearest eye rolling down to look at her with a huge  _No_  in it. “You'll just have to make him a carving. Or a stuffed puppy that won't pee on the floor.”

“Oh! I could! I could sew him a tiny little halla. Oh, Hawke, would you like that?” Merrill brightly asked with a wonderful smile. “I think it would be sweet.”

“It would, yes,” Hawke murmured, returning the smile to her friend.

“We approach,” Merc softly warned her as they carried the litter up a slight incline toward the cave network Tallis had asked to meet at. Ever since the slaughter-fest that Hawke and Fenris had done to the slavers inside years ago, it had been kept quite empty save for a lone drifter or two. Much safer and quieter than the old mines she owned a share of.

They paused as they crested the hill. Hawke sat up in the litter, dark eyes watchful and finger touching the hidden dagger under her blanket. Even Merrill was very still, hand reaching back for her staff as the two Qunari set the litter down on its legs and looked around in the sunset for any signs.

Ash kept toward the front of the litter to protect her from any shots, but it made her unable to see. She huffed a bit, trying to see around him, and finally called out with a push of her fingers to his backside, “Tallis! I'm here! Come greet me like the friend you are.”

Ash froze, not looking back at her with the anger she  _knew_ he had at her loud invitation. Even Merc shifted slightly. It was silent another moment or two, and then they heard a soft rustle. Hawke watched her friends looking level around them, but she knew Tallis too well. She looked  _upward_ from the litter and saw the elf perched high on the rock cropping with an all-too-familiar smile.

“Hi,” Hawke called with an amused look. “I see you have not changed in your approach.”

The only sign of the jerk that went through Ash came in the form of the muscle of his arm tightening for a moment. Hawke watched Tallis grin and shift her stance on the rock. “Well, this one has no trap. I swear. However, I wanted to be sure there wasn't a trap for  _me_ this time.”

The three heads of her companions shot up at the voice and stared down the Qunari elf spy.

“Please. I've not the energy to waste, nor the inclination on an old friend.”

Tallis pursed her lips, hand on her thigh. “That's fair. If I come down, will your once mighty Arishok rip me in half?”

Ash growled low at the question, but Hawke gently touched his arm. “No,” she responded. “He does not know you the way I do, but he is  _still_ mighty.”

“True, Hawke. We were in a cell together for a good few hours, weren't we, chatting away?” Tallis smirked and did a front flip off of the rock to the ground, landing perfectly. Hawke blushed, remembering how she'd finally confessed to her feelings for Ash then and Tallis had rightly cackled, then gone silent in awe when Hawke remained serious. Tallis bowed as she raised up, getting a tiny clap from Merrill. “Oh, I recognize you. Mage, right?”

“Yes,” Merrill smiled.

“Tallis, this is Merrill, Merc and...Ash, my  _kadan_. All of you, this is Tallis.”

“Hello,” Tallis greeted them with a little wave.

Hawke bit her lip to hide the smile as Ash stared the agent down as if she were insane. He  _truly_ had not expected Tallis to be this way. At all. But Hawke had tried to tell him, of course, many times. She shifted in the litter, uncomfortable from the long ride. “You say you have some news, Tallis?”

The elf grinned again. “Yes, I do. I asked to deliver it, personally. You know. As...a thank you. That fake gem wasn't worth enough for your help before.”

“Glad you thought so.”

“Why are you here? Who do you really represent? A minority? The Triumvirate orders?” Ash demanded, gaze sharply narrowed on the Qunari elf with suspicion.

Tallis raised her brows, looking a bit afraid. “Um. Well, I represent the Qun, you know. And I'm here, yes, on Triumvirate orders.”

“Shit,” Merc cursed and kicked at a plant near his boot. “This'll be good.”

“Hey now. It's good news. I swear. Well, it's good for you guys. Not so much for others.”

Ash narrowed his already tight gaze. “Speak then, spy. Hawke is in danger the longer she is exposed.”

“Look, Arishok, I like Hawke. I'd never put her in danger, no matter old orders from stupid Qunari,” Tallis said, voice firm yet soft. “I could...see why you'd find  _kadan_ in someone so worthy. I  _get it_.”

That one took them all by surprise. Hawke stared, a bit wowed by the implications of  _that_ admission, while Ash quickly reevaluated Tallis's figure. “Continue.”

Tallis paced a tiny bit, hands behind her back. “Okay, so it's like this, Hawke. There's...some serious stuff going on. Like  _really_ serious. The entire Qun's attention is focusing on it and the danger involved. That's why when...when word of the failed assassinations, especially the one that nearly took you, reached the ears of our leaders, tempers erupted.”

“Meaning they never ordered any themselves, even against him?” Hawke asked, face tilted a little.

“Exactly. I have...a message to read about that. But I just wanted you to know that those who attacked you  _did not_ have the Triumvirate blessing—only that of some pissed off generals and a few...um.” Tallis blushed and looked away. “A few past...lovers.”

Hawke's brows went up as she looked to her husband, waiting. Ash stared back at her uncomfortably. “There were...one or two regular rutting partners arranged. It is likely.”

“Those  _bitches_ ,” Hawke hissed and crossed her arms in anger.

“The rest of the Qun has  _mourned_ his loss. Truly, they have. There are those still loyal, still saying he was Qun all the way in his devotion to return the tome. There are others who say he was weak, corrupted by human greed. And yet still others who believe he did what was necessary and nothing else needless,” Tallis explained, hands spread peacefully. “There is less anger in the populous than you would expect, mostly because they all believe he had great reason to do anything differently than expected. After many years of dedicated service to his role, they would naturally see it that way...and he had  _still_ returned with the relic, regardless.”

Ash released a tight breath, one Hawke hoped meant some of his inner turmoil had calmed with. “Yes.”

“And I'm one of them—you getting out of Kirkwall with the Tome was priority, nothing else. Plus, knowing Hawke? I get it, like I said.”

“Have there been punishments in the wake of the Triumvirate anger?” Ash asked quietly, not blinking.

Tallis groaned and rubbed her temple. “Well, sort of. See, it's  _them_ who decided your fate, your punishment, your exile. The entire point is to be without Qun and know misery. And you have. You were followed, watched. It was seen. But you also moved on, strong enough to survive regardless of the exile. It might not be honorable for some, but it is...note worthy. Thus, the new Arishok decided it best if you were left alone—you'd made no attempts at revenge, no attacks or conversions of any Qunari to your exile. You even fought against this Corypheus with the Inquisition and left the organization, showing no loyalty to it to be concerned about. I, of course, knew you only fought because Hawke was going to.”

“Of course he didn't do anything like that. He never abused the power of his role to have power,” Hawke said, twisting her mouth a little to the side. Ash merely nodded a silent agreement.

“Good news is that the others came to agree with the new Arishok. So, I've got a couple of documents explaining that.” Tallis gave Hawke a gentle look. “You're free.”

“Both of us?” Hawke calmly asked.

“Yep.”

Ash growled a little. “ _All_ of us?”

Tallis sighed then. “Some still think it best to take the  _imekari_. Others know you've given enough of them to the Qun that one more isn't necessary. As I said, there is enough going on to just...call a truce of sorts, if you're willing to stay away.”

“Done,” Hawke muttered. “I'm tired of this dance.”

“Wait,” Ash said, hand reached out like a knife cutting Hawke silent. “There are  _always_ terms, if the papers are to even be considered worth any measure.”

Tallis bowed her head with a little nod. “You remember all too well, then.”

“What's the deal, Tallis?” Hawke asked tiredly, rubbing her brow.

“You cannot get involved. In anything. If things erupt between the Qunari and another people, you must stay out of it. You are considered absolutely neutral now. Breaking that neutrality in a situation involving Qunari shows threat, and thus makes you a target again.”

Ash dropped his hand. “They plan to do something that would aggravate Hawke into action, thus aggravating me to follow. This is a test, not a truce, to see if everything is dissolved.”

“...very good.”

“I am not stupid,  _viddathari._ I know too many secrets to be so easily let go.”

“Didn't mean it that, way, uh, ser.”

Hawke did not like the interaction. At all. “Do you know what's about to happen? Can you even hint at it? Why would I  _care_  to get involved?”

“Please, Hawke, you fought for the Inquisition a while. You always get involved to do the right thing,” Tallis tsk'ed, though she did it with a sad smile.

“Yes, well, my priorities are quite changing, as you can imagine,” Hawke replied, hands sliding over the blanket to rest on her stomach. “I have other concerns, and there are many able bodies fighting in my place.”

Ash, for his part, looked almost proud of her in that moment before his eyes slid back to Tallis. “I will read these papers before you leave us,” he commanded. Tallis nodded eagerly and walked toward him, only to be stopped by Merc. The smaller male held a hand out, and after a few tense seconds, Tallis handed him the parchments. Merc sniffed over them, shook them, then handed them to Ash after. Hawke caught the look of “uh?” on Tallis's face and simply smiled.

They waited while Ash perused the documents, frowning now and then, relaxing a little. He came a bit closer toward the litter, eyes looking Hawke over for signs of ill health, then exhaled as he finished two of the parchments. Hawke waited patiently, though the babe in her stomach gave a few impatient kicks.

“It...seems legitimate,” Ash finally conceded, though clearly he was still uncomfortable. “So long as we remain neutral politically, assassins will stop.”

“You're sure?”

“Only as much as this allows me to be. So no. I do not trust, but I can consider the honor of the new Arishok to be at stake if any broke this.”

Tallis grinned and rocked on her heels. “Excellent insight.”

Ash grunted, not amused. Hawke tried not to smile. She understood her love was easily annoyed by an over-friendly elven convert. “Kirkwall is off limits to the Qunari then, if there is to be mutual neutrality. The city, corrupt or otherwise, is Hawke's domain.”

“Yes, it will be. No activity, outside what you're doing anyway.”

He impressively stared Tallis down, making even the spy fidget nervously as he took a step forward, looking darker than Hawke had  _ever_ seen him—even during his compound days. Even Merc shifted his stance, uncomfortable. Ash sneered. “If that is broken, it is  _you_ who will feel pain for rupturing the trust of Hawke. Understand this now,  _viddathari_. I will hunt you, and I will  _break_ you, and they will be given the pieces when I finish.”

Hawke was speechless. Even Merrill was silent. Tallis swallowed, looking between he and Hawke in actual visible terror before nodding seriously. “A-All right. You have my word. And if anything is to change, I will give warning.”

Ash sneered, nodding expectantly, and handed Hawke the parchments. “We will keep these. In case your agents' memory falters.”

“Understood.”

“Okay. So. We're...good?” Hawke interrupted, trying to calm the situation down. “Like, really, Tallis.”

“Really, Hawke,” the elf finally smiled again at her. “May I give you congratulations on your wedding and expecting?”

“Sure.”

“Then congrats,” Tallis said with genuine happiness. “And thanks again. For everything you did for me—a total stranger of the Qun.”

“I'd say it was worth the effort,” Hawke winked, calming the agent down further.

Ash looked around the sky and huffed, grabbing one side of the litter. “We return.”

“Yes, love. Let's go. Stay well, Tallis, and out of trouble. The Red Templars are dangerous.”

“Trust me, Hawke. There are  _many_ dangers now.”

Hawke frowned as Tallis entered the cave, waving goodbye. Merc picked up the other side of the litter and started pulling it with Ash back down the path. Merrill darted toward the front, frowning. “Hawke....”

“I know. Something's up, and five sovereigns says it's going to involve the Inquisition, just like Ash thought a while ago,” Hawke murmured and leaned back into the pillow behind her. “I can't even write Feran now to warn him. Damn. Stupid politics of organizations should not decide the lives and deaths of innocents.”

“Without order, they do. With order, they do even more so. It is inevitable,” Ash mumbled, brow raised as he glanced over his shoulder and downward.  
  
“Maybe I could write a coded letter to Varric.”

“No. Do not risk it.”

Hawke rubbed her face, feeling tired and more than ready to just go home without worry anymore.  
  
  
  


 

 


	41. Worth It All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He did not take the word of the spy quite as readily as she had, and so he'd kept even more guard, watching while on patrols with Merc and the others around the bit of the coast nearby or even speaking with the Redhead about her guards, the changes to the rosters recently, and grudgingly admitting his concerns when she demanded to know why.

After that the _two_ of them prowled for weeks, both increasingly growing nervous with the seeming ease of the city without any Qunari-related troubles and with Hawke's coming birthing. And the letter from the dwarf not long after discussing the heated battle of the Inquisition allies at some elven ruins with the darkspawn magister _did not_ help settle their unease, no matter what victory might have been momentarily felt by all.

Ash sometimes didn't sleep at night, up too much with worries for his _kadan_ next to him in their bed, sleeping fitfully in her discomfort with a hand over her large belly.

Hawke had grown large enough that the stairs were too dangerous, and she'd been more or less confined to their room or carried to the bath. The elf with the big eyes came around often to watch over her, the Redhead checking in daily as well. Lumia tended to Hawke's needs without judgment or exasperation, and Ash was exhausted between the occasional tears, joyous laughter, and books tossed in random fits of discomfort and anger.

His son would arrive soon, he knew. He could _feel_ it inside of him, and it was such a strange feeling indeed. He looked forward to it and yet feared it, feared losing _her_ in the process of it, and though he'd only mentioned so once to her when she'd been calmer, Hawke had naturally waved his concern away. She listened, and she understood, but she had faith in her friends to help. Had faith in him to get her through it, too.

The stubborn human didn't quite understand how _deep_ the fear went the closer the time came.

She sent him out to do a brief check-in with Merc on a problem in Lowtown, claiming he was standing over her like a giant stone butterfly and flicking her fingers with an accompanying, “Shoo!”

Ash had snickered at her after kissing her hair, but he'd left, honestly needing the moment to breathe for himself. He took a slower route to the pub, ignoring some of the still curious stares of traveling folk or nobles that hadn't seen much of him, and when he entered to do business, the customers of the dwarf's favored home of sorts all called out with a wave.

Acceptance he'd never expected, but appreciated slightly nonetheless.

Two hours later in the late afternoon, Ash was elbow deep in arguing _bas_ over a business deal apparently ill negotiated, only staying as a paid buffer for one of the humans for protection while the scrawny fellow tried to intimidate the other Lowtown resident with his presence.

He'd given Merc an eyeful for the assignment, but Merc had grinned, shrugged, and said, “You said in-town hires only right now. This is what I had.”

“And another thing!” his client argued, older voice full of indignation. “My herbs _did not_ work as intended.”

The man barely seen through the crack of a slum door stared once up at Ash and then back to the whining tradesman. “I sold you what you asked for, sod. Not my fault you can't still get it up for a fun night at the Bloomin' Rose, now is it? Take _more_ next time.”

“I...! That wasn't...!” Ash's assignment growled, fist raised with his human face entirely red. “You see this brute here with me? You pay me, or he beats you, filth.”

Ash rolled his eyes when the hidden human looked up at him again.

As he debated exactly what he would say to Merc about the _next_ assignment selection, should even take one again in town, he heard the cacophony starting up the streets. Ash turned, hand already reaching for his sword, nerves on fire with the shouts and ruckus until he singled out one particular sound in the middle of it all.

Barking. The long howl of a mabari.

Ash brought his other fingers up and gave a sharp whistle that had his charge next to him wincing with hands over his ears. Barking echoed two streets over, and then in a few blinks, there she was, the big tan dog running right for him with flying drool and loud demand.

Lilette jumped right up, planted her paws on his chest without fear, and barked _harshly_ once in his face.

At first he feared Hawke was under attack, had been harmed, and forced the dog to find him rather than let it fight to its death. But as he nodded and the dog jumped back down, barking over her shoulder for him to follow, it hit him.

His son was being born.

“I must go,” he grunted, ignoring the screaming of the man undoubtedly about to continue his screaming into Merc's ear personally.

Good. Let the younger Qunari deal with _basra_ with _such_ issues.

Ash followed through the tight streets, now seeing that the dog's bounding around to find him had apparently startled many shoppers near the bazaar, and some goods had been knocked over. Fists shook the dog's way until he appeared behind her, and the eyes swiveled up one pair at a time to realize just whose dog she was.

A few gulps entertained him as he ran past, easily keeping pace with the war dog, and he ran harder the closer he got into Hightown. The Redhead's guards were still where he'd left them, though they appeared spooked still by Lilette's likely sudden brusque departure behind them, and as they came forward, the two men quickly gave way, letting Ash burst in through the partially open door.

“Hawke!” he shouted, terrified she was stuck on the floor somewhere, had perhaps even fallen instead and wasn't birthing his son yet at all.

The answering scream of pain from their bedroom was answer enough.

Ash didn't even feel himself take the stairs, he moved so fast, and he barged into the room, golden eyes widening as Lumia wiped Hawke's brow with a damp cloth on one side and the Daisy one kept speaking something soft, something _elvhen_ likely, with green magic coming out of her fingertips.

Hawke was propped on the bed between them, every pillow in the house shoved behind her to keep her stable at a comfortable slight incline. The bed was stripped underneath her with large canvases colored reflectively with magic of some kind, likely to protect everything from the coming blood and mess.

Her golden hair was down and everywhere, loose about her face and stuck to her sweaty brow, and her teeth were gritting as her dark eyes flared up at him with each step he took closer to her.

“Oh, you _bastard_. I'm barely even open, and I'm screaming. Why must you be so _big_? Why must _he_?” Hawke immediately ranted at him. But all he could take in was how flushed her cheeks were, how rosy and alive and warm, how entirely gorgeous she was in that moment to him. “I've _wet myself_ twice now! D'you know how much pride I take in _not_ wetting myself even when I'm _pissed_ at the pub?”

“ _Kadan_ ,” he began, uncertain of how to progress with her emotions at the moment.

In the past he'd likely have tried to deal with this the way he'd have dealt with soldiers or problems in the Qun: Break it down to logic, make her see reason in her fit, and order her some goddamn leather straps to bite for pain. But Denerim had happened. Months of her pregnancy had happened. And he'd learned that what he'd always known to do and act weren't always...as strictly the right and logical and easy path as he'd once thought them to be.

“Don't you _kadan_ me! You're going to _sit here_ , and I'm going to break your hand if I'm lucky. May this son give me the strength.”

Ash grinned, and Hawke immediately broke out into a laugh as he grunted, “You could _try_.”

“You could be much nicer to the _mother_ of your coming child.”

Oh, but he was. And she knew he was. The raised brow he aimed at her was enough for her to crack him a grin.

Lumia ran past him for some more cloths, and Ash took the elf's spot, using the same towel to wipe over Hawke's brow. She sighed, thanking him, and closed her eyes with pain.

“Where is the Redhead?” he asked her. Surely the guardswoman was on her way.

“Aveline is fixing shift so she can be off task for the rest of the night and morrow in case he takes that long. So help him, he'd better not.”

Ash nuzzled his nose to the crown of her head. “Last night you said it would be beautiful. You said you would smile, and our son would enter the world with a smirk like yours.”

“Yes, well, it's painful. I'm sweating more than I did in the Approach. And I almost shat myself earlier,” she admitted, looking absolutely tormented in doing so. “It's going to be rough and ugly, and not in the good fighting-dirty kind of way. But I still hope my darling comes out with that smirk.”

“Perhaps he will come out screaming like you, too,” Ash teased to distract her.

“You're not winning yourself favors here, dearest,” she grumbled, but he caught the quick passing of fear in her face and the tremble of her body so close.

He bent more and kissed her temple. “He will live. You will live. I will tolerate no less.”

Hawke rolled her eyes with a smile of exasperation. “Only you, love, would dare tell Death how to do its job and it likely obey.”

“Hawke, dear, I need to check. It's been nearly a quarter of an hour with preparations, and you could be further along than we expect. I've never seen _shem_ or Qunari births to know what such little differences might be,” Merrill called below them as she gazed about the bed. “Will bring some water for you to drink.”

His _kadan_ moaned. “ _Whiskey_ , Daisy, I need _whiskey_.”

“Hawke, the babe probably shouldn't be exposed to—”

“Please, Merrill, I need something.”

“A sip of gentle tea,” Merrill decided, nearly prancing out the door in her quick pace with her bared feet.

Ash chuckled inwardly as Hawke crossed her arms over her big belly, rested them there, and pouted right at the door.

“Ash?”

“She is the healer, Hawke.”

“Damn it.” Hawke mock cried and wiped her face exaggeratedly with her fingers. “Ugh.”

Ash rubbed her shoulder, looking her over more intently with just the two of them there. “List your pains.”

“Ash, I don't think you _really_ want to know. But if you're asking me what _you_ can do to help me with them, rub my shoulders. My neck is stiff from the last few nights.”

He tilted his broad shoulders and reached around behind her, leaning with his weight to set his large palms over her tiny back. Gently he pressured across her shoulders, slightly down her arms, and brought his fingers back up to rub at the base of her neck.

She sighed in relief until both elves reentered the room, the healer with a cup who handed it to him and then asked Hawke to bend her knees up by pushing with the elf's readied hands. Ash kept his hand steady behind her between her back and the pillows until she was as the elf directed, poised for him to uncomfortably watch the elf lift her long nightdress and bow her head to look.

Hawke jolted slightly against him, muttering, “Maker, Merrill, we're not even on a date, you know. Give me _some_ fun, if you must.”

Ash cocked a brow, but kept the smile hidden away, immediately thinking of how loud the dwarf might have laughed right then.

“Sorry, Hawke. You're growing ready. I'd say you'll likely start real labor within the hour or two if the rate continues,” Merrill told her with a soft smile as she reoriented herself and covered Hawke's legs again. “Are you cold? I could get you a blanket if you're willing to likely part with it after.”

“Please do,” Hawke asked of her and jerked the cup right out of Ash's grasp. “Give me. I'm parched.”

And when she began screaming moments later, one hand clenching over her belly and the other stronger than he'd imagined it could be in his grip, Ash began to wonder if even _he_ should send out a prayer to her Andraste for help.

 

 

\----------------------

 

 

Twelve hours, thirty-two minutes, and fifteen seconds later of Hawke's alternating screams, shouts, curses and pleas, of his own fear to the point he'd shifted to hold her in solidarity, of his eyes hot on Aveline and Merrill both as they helped bring their baby into the world, the loud, healthy cry of his son reached his ears.

Ash stared down Hawke's body as Merrill eased the child away, Lumia wiping his face and little body off while he was still connected to Hawke. He ignored the blood all around them on the towels and on a curtain he'd ripped down in a moment of complete terror at one point when they'd screamed for more material, and he stared at his son.

As he was cleaned, the boy showed he shared Ash's skin, just rosier in color. He was squirming fitfully, clearly unhappy about being removed from his warm haven. Small raised bumps around the top of his skull that parted soft, white hair caught Ash's proud eye, and he knew his son would grow horns.

The little one scrunched his face and cried out again, looking _every bit_ like his stubborn mother as he licked his small lips and jerked away from the wet rags. Ash slowly smiled in complete awe.

This was his son. His child he'd waited to meet for so long now. His _imekari_ birthed from his one true _kadan_.

He was beautiful. And he was theirs.

“How...how is he?” Hawke whimpered from below him, her hand feeling so delicate within his.

“Perfect,” Ash murmured, bending to kiss her damp brow with great pride. “You have done well, _kadan_. I am proud of you.”

The elves scrambled amongst themselves while Aveline slowly looked up at him. “Ash...it's an, um...human thing for the...father to cut the cord. So I've heard, anyway, when I asked some of the young mothers for advice lately.”

Ash frowned, stood up and saw his son still connected. Aveline presented him with a pair of sharp scissors, handles first. “He won't feel it. He must be cut for us to get the rest out.”

“Do it,” Hawke breathed exhausted beside him, but smiled as much as she could, looking far more beautiful than she could ever have believed she would in this moment. “Claim him.”

Mind made up, Ash took the scissors and let go of Hawke's hand, stepping closer and glancing at his grunting boy before he saw where Aveline was pointing. With a precise snip, he cut the cord. The baby didn't cry out at it, just kept grunting at the attention he was getting.

Aveline took the scissors with a rare smile at him. “Good. He can get cleaned up now and be presented to Hawke for feeding. I'll...see to it myself. Merrill, get the rest out of her carefully. You two clean her up. She needs it.”

Instinct, something he'd never felt before with this, told him no.

“I will clean my son,” he said and reached out, absolutely nervous on the inside while his face kept extremely calm.

With a nod Aveline moved so the elves could present him his son. Ash stared down at the infant in wonder before taking him slowly, one large hand cupping the head, the other holding his back and lower body. His son opened his tired eyes and stared upward at him, not making much noise. The baby's eyes were dark colored, almost bluish in the light.

“They'll change color in a few weeks, if it's human influenced enough,” Hawke explained from the bed. “I was born with blue eyes, but they went brown later.”

Ash briefly turned by the cot, kissing Hawke's cheek as she blinked and gasped, looking at their child. “I will clean him, but you should see the glory you've birthed.”

“Hello, darling. He looks _just_ like you,” Hawke murmured, lip quivering as she reached up tiredly and touched the boy's tight fist. The baby relaxed and gripped her finger with his little ones while her eyes wet and tears gently flowed from the corners of her eyes. “Y-Yeah, clean him up. I bet he's ready to eat and sleep for a good while, if we're lucky. I just...he's here, Ash. You're here, darling, and you're safe, and thank the Maker.”

Ash nodded and stood back up, turning away as she added, “You look wonderful with him.”

In the nearby bathroom a small tub for dish washing had been brought up. The water was semi-warm, cool enough not to harm the baby—though by his very look, Ash figured his son could handle far hotter water than this. Gently he lowered the slightly kicking boy inside, ears hurting from the little scream of shock.

“ _Parshaara_ , my son,” Ash grunted, bringing his face closer to the baby's. “Relax.”

His son growled a little, trying to find his small voice and making Ash break out in a huge grin. The boy was so Qunari it made him proud. Carefully he cupped water in one palm as he held the baby with the other, rising over him gently. He then reached for the soft soap that Merrill had crafted. With ease he got enough to rub into a new cloth and cleaned the boy, making his son grunt and grumble, small mouth popping as he cried once or twice.

“I know you hunger,” Ash replied to the cries, rinsing the baby off again. He dropped his face down and sniffed, satisfied by how his son smelled—healthy, strong. Like him with hints of Hawke.

Ash lifted the infant, reached for a near towel and dried him off gently, still trying to remain unfazed in the deep worry he did feel. He wanted to keep the boy safe, bring him up right, but it was such a...a wonder to see this child in his hands, to know he'd had many like him before and...that it was okay. Because this was his son, and he'd claimed him for himself. No Qun to tell him not to, no philosophy to say raising the boy was distraction and undue. Just a beautiful _kadan_ wife reassuring him that he would be wonderful, a natural father. How strange that he _did_ feel naturally okay, despite the lower levels of slight anxiety.

Ash wrapped his son in a dry towel and carried him back into the bedroom. The boy was cooing a little, still unhappy as he wriggled in the cloth. The women had put Hawke into a tub drug into the bedroom, cleaning his _kadan_ carefully. She looked so strong even in her fragility as Aveline lifted her out of the water for the other two to help her dry.

Lumia aided Hawke in putting on a clean robe while Ash watched, glancing down every few seconds to his squirming, grunting son before the boy screamed out in displeasure.

“Okay, okay, one more minute, sweetheart. I was sitting in stuff you wouldn't _want_ to be near,” Hawke laughed, relieved as the magicked tarps were removed by the two elves and she was rested upon the bed by her human friend. She reached her arms out, but Ash saw the exhaustion in her eyes.

Nearly thirteen hours she fought to bring his son into the world.

He'd never thought her more strong. More beautiful. More meant for him.

Ash gently handed her his bundle, watching her face light with joy, and he sat upon the bed's edge, smirking to himself as the Redhead waved herself out with an almost asleep, “Love to you both, Hawke, but I must walk down the stairs before I fall down them.”

“Thanks, Aveline,” Hawke whispered, the smile knowing and grateful.

The two elves tended to them both a little longer by bringing in some light plates of food and drink, and when both retired sometime late into the afternoon to rest, Ash stared down at his sleeping family in awe. Hawke held their son to her chest gently while reclining against him, and he held around the both of them just a little tighter.

For in that second of hearing the cry of his son, he knew something.

That everything he'd endured, everything he'd changed...his son, _their family_ , was worth it all.

 

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mother told me that my labor was long enough that she went in Saturday night and I was born just barely into the following Monday morning.  
> [Yikes.]


	42. Sought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

 

Hawke quietly opened her eyes, smiling as she took him in near the fire.

A chair had been brought closer to the bed, and his legs stretched against it. Ash's head was tilted against one palm, eyes tired and barely open on the sleeping infant against his chest that he held to him. Her breath caught as she saw her son make little sucking noises, then grunt and rub his face against the gray chest he slept on.

Both of them were beautiful—Ash, damn near living perfection, and their son, a perfect blend. The boy looked so much like Ash but with subtle hints of Hawke in his lighter gray skin with its peachy undertones, rounder eyes that she had a gut feeling would go dark brown, and her softer face. He shared his father's jaw and cheekbones under that soft baby roundness, but with less severity, especially with her chin and fuller lips. That little bit of white hair growing made her smile as much as the tiny bumps under his skin above his brow. He'd grow horns, Ash had said with a proud smile.

Her husband, her Qunari love, looked so enraptured by his son that she wished she could have the moment painted to hang on the wall. Deep love and awe lit up his tired eyes, and she completely understood.

Their son had been born healthy. Safe. And she hadn't died from it, not with her friends and her stubbornness to ground her.

Hawke had never seen Ash so utterly panicked as the moment she'd screamed like she was being torn apart by demons when her baby boy's crown pressed through. For that split second as she gripped his hand to the point of almost breaking his fingers, even she had a moment of panic. What if it had killed her? Duty would have kept Ash raising the baby, she figured, but the resentment would have been palpable and directed at himself for losing her.

In her exhausted, extremely pained state of delivery, Ash had stayed right there, whispering words of encouragement, how proud he was of her, how strong she was being. It had all helped.

That smile kept to her lips as her eyes nearly closed. Lumia had gone to bed, Merill crashing in the nursery they'd slowly established over the past months in her mother Leandra's old room.

Just as her eyes shut and she finally relaxed into the bed and furs Ash insisted upon using, the little cry called out. Her eyes jerked back open, catching Ash's fingers stroking the baby's back and hushing him in Qunlat with gentleness. But it was not to be. Her son grunted and pushed his brow against that big chest, mouth searching for her breast that wouldn't be found. Ash realized the baby was hungry again and looked to her, almost amused in his tiredness.

Hawke nodded and opened her arms over the blankets and furs to receive the boy. Her husband came forth, sitting on his side and stretching out as he slowly handed the infant over to her, making sure she had him secured before he relaxed. Hawke winced as she shifted her robe and bared her breast, the baby latching with his mouth and sucking right away. It was a beautiful sight. She smiled down at the boy in pure happiness, amazed it had been _this adorable thing_ inside of her all this time, making her pee all day and night and getting her hormones in a riled state.

“As you do not wish him with role, have you considered a name?”

She glanced to her right at Ash's question. “Ceneric, for even coming this far he has been so brave and strong.”

“This is true, Hawke.”

Hawke's heart almost hurt, she felt so happy. “Look at him, Ash. He's beautiful.”

“Yes, he is.”

A little gray fist curled over her heavy breast while the baby suckled, small eyes barely open and drifting closed. Hawke let her free fingers stroke over his soft hair. “To think it was you inside me all this time, you precious little thing. I cannot wait to see a smile, hear a laugh.”

Ash rumbled with contented amusement, eyes cracked as he shifted to face them. His large hand carefully draped across the boy from his crown down his back in his little blanket. “You are happy, Hawke...and he is healthy. I am satisfied.”

“Good. Maker, he looks like you,” she teased, shifting her son a little as his nursing slowed while he began to fall asleep, sucking out of reflex for a little while and waking himself back up. Hawke winced a little. “This hurts, you know.”

“You bear the pain well.”

“Yeah. Nothing compared to pushing him out.” A slow glance let her catch his golden eyes shutting tightly for a second. “Love, it's okay. This...this proves we can have a full family, if we're careful enough. I just need lots of time to heal and uh, you know.”

Ash leaned his face forward, nose rubbing their son's head before he pulled back up and pressed his brow to her cheek. “I could have lost you.”

“But you didn't.”

“No. You are strong, as you always have been. Birthing my son proves it.”

“Thanks.”

“And you are...a sight, Hawke.” Ash kissed her lips gently, settling back against the pillow next to her. “Beautiful, as you humans say. When your body is capable, I will take you.”

She grinned a little at him. “Missed being in me, huh. I think you like that freedom.”

“It is highly acceptable. Relieving,” he replied, deadpanned.

“Ash, you're hilarious.” Hawke winced again, then sighed as the baby let go of her nipple, little face scrunching up. Gently she shifted him to her shoulder, patting his back and bouncing him slightly. “Shh, baby. Give me a burp. Aunt Aveline says you need to burp.”

Ash grunted next to her, watching as the boy clenched his eyes shut, fists against her neck with his face. Hawke kept patting him in a rhythm, trying to soothe the baby in case of gas. He was a larger baby in that he was certainly longer and bigger compared to those she remembered birthed in Lothering, but he was still an infant, and his face felt tiny against her throat while he lightly cried out in muted grunts.

She snickered down at him. “That's right. Sound like your father already. Grunt, grunt, grunt. Two silvers says your first word is 'no.'”

“Hawke.”

“What? You do. A lot. And that is so your favorite word.”

Ash smirked, shook his head and patted the baby's back over her fingers. A little burp sounded, and their son grunted again, then yawned loudly. Hawke's eyes misted as she settled down, the baby to her chest sleeping while his father's arm rested carefully under her breasts.

Qunari lips teased her temple. “Thank you,” he whispered to her surprise.

“For what, love?” she asked with a tired yawn.

“You carried my son and birthed him. Tend to him. You honor us.”

“I'm his mother. Of course I do these things.”

Ash nuzzled her. “But you will do more than is necessary for life.”

Hawke turned her face and kissed him once, eyes catching his. “Yes. I love you both—my husband and son, my family. Nothing is more important.”

He looked over her, satisfied by that response.

After a few quiet moments, she asked, “Are you happy, Ash?”

“Yes,” he murmured.

“He's amazing, isn't he.”

“Very.”

“Ash...we _made_ him. That's...crazy.” Hawke tilted her face, readjusting the baby and kissing his little face as he snoozed on. “We made you, darling. We made you with so much love and joy. And definitely lots of lust, especially on your father's part.”

“ _Kadan_ ,” Ash chuckled softly.

“Your papa is so excited to have you here. I promise,” she whispered and watched her child sleep peacefully, Ash rumbling in contentment the entire time.

 

 

\----------------------------------------

 

 

The dwarf's letter arrived not a month after, late due to one runner being killed by some straggler Red Templars on the way north.

Battles had taken place at elven ruins with the magister, and a final confrontation had happened not long after. The Inquisitor elf had killed the one responsible for so much destruction, and many sat left wondering what to do at Skyhold now. Varric mentioned he'd be coming home soon with some goodies for them and his nephew, figuring at that point the boy would be born close in time.

Ash reread it before he took the letter upstairs to the nursery where Hawke was struggling to change a cloth nappy and clothe their squirming, giggling son. In just a month he proved that while he might physically take more after Ash himself, in _personality_ he was almost entirely his _mother_.

It agitated as well as amused him, most days. Made him more than a little concerned for the amount of trouble their _imekari_ would be getting into within even the near future, as soon as the child learned to walk.

“Ceneric, still! I just need to get your little plump leg through here, now. Come, darling, be good for me.”

He leaned outside the door in the hall, too tall to do so under the frame, and smiled to himself, watching his son kick once more before yawning widely. Hawke immediately took the reprieve to finish clothing their son, finishing with a triumphant, “Ha! There we go.”

Hawke picked the boy up, bouncing him gently as she stepped, and she paused when she noticed Ash standing nearby, the letter in his hand. Her brown eyes fell down to it curiously, but she stayed quiet until she made it to the chair Aveline had ordered made as a gift—some rocking type of thing that worked wonders on Ceneric to get him to sleep.

Ash waited until she was settled, until the baby was nuzzled up and cozy and drifting quietly, and then he bowed his head and stepped inside, careful of his horns as was second nature now in some parts of the house.

He held the letter out to her. “The dwarf writes. Late arrival due to messenger problems.”

“Oh, Maker, please be safe,” Hawke murmured, eyes large as she cleverly flipped the letter around in her nimble free fingers, her other hand patting and holding Ceneric close as she rocked in the chair. She read it quickly, paused, and read it again just as Ash had done to be sure he'd not misread anything in his haste. And then his _kadan_ sighed in relief.

Ash hoped she would feel the guilt she'd carried for so long now slide off of her shoulders. He hoped she would see that her role was complete as such, that others had finished it by taking it from her and making it their own. He wanted her to feel _free_.

But she sat there, almost in shock, and then she cried, shuddered and dropped the letter to hold the baby closer, as if so relieved that he would be _safe_ , that their family was finally safe from at least _one_ threat forever, that she couldn't handle it for just one moment of overwhelming emotion.

He bent by her side and pressed his brow to hers, rubbing reassuringly. His large hand covered part of her arm and the boy's back, and he stayed that way, unified by new purpose as a _kadan_ husband and father, as a protector and a shelter for them now.

“It's over,” she whispered against him so softly.

“Yes,” he confirmed, leaning back enough to look her over.

Hawke adjusted to wipe one of her eyes, and she laughed under her breath, muttering, “Varric better have slit his throat _again_. Checked _five_ times. I'm not going through another resurrection, and neither is the rest of Thedas.”

Ash smirked. He figured the dwarf had likely done _exactly_ that. When she blew out her breath, trying to center again, he picked the letter up and gestured with it. “He says he is coming, Hawke. He may be close by already, given the date of this writing.”

“I hope so. And he'd _best_ also have more candies for me. I requested more in my last letter to him months ago,” Hawke grumbled, but grinned when Ash rolled his eyes. She smiled, lips twisting sensually to the side a bit. “Ash, he did write me a bit ago that he'd gotten a tooth—an _ataashi_ tooth. Maybe he'll bring that, too.”

He considered her size with a low chuckle. “Even half of one will weigh your neck down, Hawke.”

“I can handle it,” she teased, sticking her tongue out for a spare moment. “I handle _you_ with my smaller frame, don't I?”

A rumble eased from his throat, and his palms opened over her thighs, fingers massaging there. “How much longer?” he asked, almost pained.

Between Ceneric slightly ripping part of her body and the human healer called in to help with it awkwardly, Ash had gotten a _little_ impatient over the month of only touching and kissing her. He'd not been inside of her for a while now, since before his son's birth, and damn it all if he didn't wake heavy each time he saw her rise to feed their _imekari_ by the fire at night.

Her lips lightly pressed over his brow by his horns, and she hummed. “Maybe...tonight?”

“Do not tease, Hawke.”

“I'm not. I've felt better, and the healer did say I was doing well this past week. Besides, I've missed it _, too_.”

He smiled then and looked deep into her, still amazed at the bared love so visible to him now as it was the day he'd chosen to not break her neck, as it was that single moment he'd looked back before leaving the same city he currently called home, watching her look to him bloody and hopeful and with _love_ in her strange human understanding of the emotion.

Ash moved forward enough to kiss her, to slide a hand up and hold her head, feeling the fire of his compound heating him in memory of their first kiss. His tongue touched hers before his mouth moved to caress over her jaw and throat, his long hair trickling down like a white waterfall over their sleeping son.

So much change, he knew.

So much change he'd never thought possible.

So much difference in his mind, in his life, in the peace of his soul...in _her_ thinking, her strength, her decisions, too. A name now so adept to _him_ that he wondered how he'd ever gone without it. Reasons to fight that were personal, reasons to breathe in _freedom_ outside of singular purpose. Reasons to exist anew.

And with a future as unique as theirs must be, there was still so much yet to come.

Ash gazed over his family, emboldened by such thoughts—ready and eager to embrace it all.  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue next. Thanks for reading this old story of mine.


	43. Epilogue: Little Bit of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age characters/events/terminology belong to Bioware.  
> I'm merely a dedicated fan and writer who worked on this fanstory for a long while.  
> Story from 2015-16

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
Two Years Later

 

 

 

With a slightly impish grin, Varric sat very still, pretending to sort through files on the floor before the fireplace with Hawke at his side. It was an activity often repeated over the last while that he'd been back in Kirkwall, becoming a twice weekly ritual that kept him sane and always guaranteed time with his best friend and family.

This afternoon he told her about the Council being called together with delegates and the new Divine Victoria to help decide the future and continuation of the Inquisition itself. Hawke sniped at him under her breath for agreeing to go to _any_ more convening councils, since it sure seemed such an idea had been fucking cursed the last few years. She wanted him to watch his ass thoroughly.

“What? It's not like I _can't_ go. Everyone's gonna be there. Feran needs people he trusts around. And now that I'm _Viscount_ , I really should know what's going on outside Kirkwall, too. Gotta keep home safe for the family.”

“Varric, you know it's going to go sideways—if not from the ridiculous nobles, then from so many people like _us_ in one place. It doesn't matter if Leliana is now Divine Victoria. There's only so much she can do to stop the disagreements,” Hawke murmured, sucking away on one of the candies she'd grown to love so much that Varric had invested permanent stock in the maker of them. “Dorian said it best once—we're us, touched by history. What _doesn't_ happen to us?”

“Fair enough,” Varric conceded and tilted his head, hearing the main door of the house.

Hawke grinned and held her arms open while Varric watched Ash enter. He carried Ceneric upon one mighty shoulder, and the now growing toddler clutched at his father's big horns with a laugh as a giant palm kept his body steady.

Varric smiled to himself, delighted to see the light in his best friend's eyes...even in Ash's, too. And when Hawke took her son that was growing to look and act more like _her_ everyday despite his father's strongly inherited features, his own little horns pushing through the white hair and the like, Varric snickered and waited until she'd kissed the boy repeatedly about his face and sat him down.

He braced for it, and the excited tumble into his back was welcomed with a laugh. Ceneric climbed around him and plopped into his lap, already patting the papers in Varric's right hand.

“Mine!”

“Nuh-uh. Mine, Ceneric. Hey now, I need these.”

“No, you don't. You need to stay _home_.”

“Hawke, I need to know exactly what's going on there without some filter over it. And something tells me Feran might need Bianca watching his back, just in case.”

“You are leaving,” Ash intoned, setting down upon the large sofa and accepting Hawke's purchase over his lap and knee. The large Qunari shook his head while he eyed his wife. “She will be cross, and it is _your_ fault.”

Varric chuckled and shrugged, left arm wrapping around the squirming toddler turning about to tug at an earring. “We're sure _she's_ the mother, right? She's not a kid, still?”

“Little arse,” Hawke mumbled and threw a small pillow at his face, banking it off of his nose and making Ceneric burst out laughing.

He jerked his head left and right to avoid the little smacking, playful fingers against his cheeks that tried to repeat that pillow's flight. “Easy now. Hawke, got something to drink?”

“Sure. I need to find Lumia anyway. There were supposed to be linens delivered this morning,” Hawke murmured and pushed off of Ash's leg, walking around the sofa and out through to the kitchen.

Ash snickered while Varric quickly hefted Ceneric up, holding under his legs to keep the boy balanced on his lap. Varric winked, pulled a little bag out of his jacket, and plopped a new type of candy the supplier had just created into Ceneric's little palm.

“Lemon. Might be a bit sour yet until they're perfected. Our little secret, hm, nephew?”

“'kay!” Ceneric giggled and popped the candy into his mouth. He sucked at it and turned to look at Ash when his father quietly questioned how it was. “Sweet, Papa.”

Varric's brow rose and he got himself one out, curious as he'd not tried them yet due to saving them for his special nephew. Instantly his eyes crossed, and he shook his head, gasping, “Holy _Maker_ , those are sour as hell!”

Ceneric cackled and shook his head. “Nuh-uh! Sweet!”

“Qunari blood must protect you, lucky little boy,” Varric managed to say in between coughs and choking.

Ash tapped his leg, and Ceneric climbed away to his father, giving Varric some space to wipe his wet eyes. “It does much for him. He is strong for having both.”

“That he is,” Varric agreed and sighed, hoping Hawke would hurry up with that drink now. “Any more, uh...problems?”

Ash tilted his face, horns leaning back. “No. Just mild...bursts when he is excited or frightened. No damage to us, only mild suppression upon his aunt. Her sister has volunteered to test around him—teaching him what is a danger and what is not instinctively. And Hawke has been...using the advice of the one ex-Templar in his letters.”

Varric let his head fall back to the chair behind him. “Good. Curly'll be there at this event with the Inquisition in Orlais. I'll be sure to let him know it's helping.”

They waited a few minutes longer, talking quietly of little things around town, and Varric finally had enough with his still twitching face from the sour lemon candy. “Hope she didn't forget that drink.”

“I didn't,” Hawke replied from a doorway nearby, startling him. Ash turned slowly on the sofa to view her, and both men frowned at the paleness in her face.

“What is it?” Ash demanded, tone bold and silencing their curious son on his lap.

Hawke walked toward them both as Varric stood up. She held a parchment in her hand. Quietly she extended it out to Varric and sat down by Ash, saying nothing more.

Varric kept his frown as he glanced downward and read aloud for Ash's benefit, “Please know that I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, Mistress Hawke, and for Master Ash and young Ceneric, but I must go now. He calls. And we cannot refuse to listen. I've secured an interview for my replacement tomorrow, and I hope you approve of her. She is human, and she will not have to leave as I have. Love, Lumia.”

“She _left_?” Ash asked, furious. “With no word prior?”

Varric understood the Qunari's anger. Lumia had been with them since they'd left Skyhold. This abrupt departure was _very_ strange and unlike the reliable elf they'd come to adore as part of the family.

Hawke looked aghast and sad, and Varric understood _that_ , too. She'd lost Bodhan and Sandal over the years, and Orana, too. He knew she wanted a home where people would _stay_ , and each servant or steward she'd ever employed had always been treated as part of the family and never anything less.

“He calls, she said. Who's this guy?” Hawke questioned, staring forward into the fire.

Ceneric slid from Ash's lap to hers, and Hawke snuggled her son with worry.

“I don't know,” Varric admitted, glancing to the apologetic letter again. “But whomever he is, he sounds disconcerting to have such control.”

“Elves have been disappearing, Hawke, remember?” Ash asked her, a large hand resting upon her back now. “Merrill said she started noticing it a while ago.”

Hawke rubbed her face quickly. “Yes. She did say that. I don't like this. It seems too...strange.”

“Look, when I see Feran I'll ask him about it. He's an elf. He's gotta have heard something, if it's...so widespread, right?”

“Maybe. If it's not good, though, Varric....”

Varric nodded, honey eyes fierce. “I'll protect him, Hawke.”

It was Ash's sudden glower, like something had crossed his mind with clarity before he'd been ready, that had Varric even more concerned.

“ _Kadan_?” Hawke pushed, looking to her husband with worry, too.

Ash stared right at Varric, unblinking and making him nervous. “You said when you returned that the Solas elf vanished.”

Varric's jaw dropped. His brows rose. And he cursed, wincing when Hawke quickly cupped her hands over her toddler's ears and shot him a little look of exasperation; the last time he'd done so, Ceneric had gone around the house and town singing to everyone he met about Andraste's supple tits.

“I'm definitely going now, Hawke. No matter what's going on with the Inquisition, if this elf stuff...if it has _anything_ to do with Solas, Feran needs to know. He's been wondering about the disappearance for two years now.”

“Then go, darling,” Hawke encouraged, fire in her eyes. “But you _come home_. And if anything happens....”

“I check their throats five times,” Varric whispered.

“Love, you do you remember what Tallis once said to us? That there were bigger things happening that had the Qun's focus?”

Ash nodded, silent in thought.

Hawke sat, looking as uneasy as Varric felt. “I don't like this. It all feels too coincidental, even if it's the Qunari dealing with the Imperium like usual and not involving in this elf matter. It's too...lined up.”

“You're right,” Varric muttered and grabbed for his papers, shuffling them back together and pocketing them in his coat. “I should go sooner. Maybe I'll catch Feran before shit really gets started there and he's busy.”

“Write us. And be careful.”

“I will, Hawke,” he vowed.

Ash smirked when Varric walked over and gave Hawke a hug, cuddling Ceneric between the pair of them. The boy wrapped his arms tightly around Varric's neck, and Varric nuzzled the little face with his scruffy chin and his nose.

Ceneric was a gift to them all—a blessing, a kindness, a genuine sweetness so rarely seen or felt in the world anymore. He kept them all laughing, kept them on their toes with his playful resourcefulness, and he reminded them of one reason they'd all fought so hard under the threat of the Breach and Corypheus...of why Varric himself had come home to Kirkwall, buckled at the nomination to the Viscount seat and cleaned the city as much as possible.

But after saying his goodbyes, after getting another kiss and hug from his best friend without his nephew squished between them giggling, and after getting a bump from Ash's big brow to his head, Varric exhaled and tried to hope. He'd go to this meeting of politicians. He'd speak with Feran and the rest of the team he trusted to be there. And he'd hope that his once thought about Kirkwall loving crisis wouldn't be extended to include the world in such a tragic love story—that even if it was, he'd hope the only ending that was possible wasn't one of just loss and heartbreak.

For if two people like Hawke and the former Arishok could come together, could overcome so much death and destruction and pain and survive...if they could change the world and people around them and change themselves, then perhaps any ending to their collective story was possible with just that little bit of hope.  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, leaving the world to the events of Trespasser.  
> Let us hope that DA:4 will have some answers that not just Hawke and Ash, but Varric as well now seeks.  
> Thank you for reading. It's been a pleasure on my end to share with you.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [I am considering a MaleHawke/Fenris story idea atm. We'll see.]


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